


Chasing Storms: Year One

by PopsAfterDark (knittersrevolt)



Series: Chasing Storms [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty Cooper Saves the Day, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fred Andrews Lives, I haven't decided yet, Mechanic Betty Cooper, Minor Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz, Other Canon Character Deaths, Photographer Jughead Jones, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Storm Chasing, The Motel Room only has One Bed!, Veronica/Reggie or Veronica/Archie, constantly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-11-08 02:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17972342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittersrevolt/pseuds/PopsAfterDark
Summary: The Serpents having been storm chasers for nearly a decade when F.P. decides they need to add a little something to their team.Jughead reluctantly accepts the addition of Betty the mechanic. For twelve weeks the team will be stuck on an endless road trip with cheap motels and bad food. It's a lot of time to get to know someone.A road-tripping, photographer/model, mechanic Bughead love story told up and down Tornado Alley.





	1. New Hire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Serpents having been storm chasers for nearly a decade when F.P. decides they need to add a little something to their team.
> 
> Jughead reluctantly accepts the addition of Betty the mechanic. For twelve weeks the team will be stuck on an endless road trip with cheap motels and bad food. It's a lot of time to get to know someone.
> 
> A road-tripping, photographer/model, mechanic Bughead love story told up and down Tornado Alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During my research into tornados I learned that those of you who live outside of the U.S. may not know about Tornado Alley. 
> 
> Every spring up the middle of north america warm wet Gulf air hits a frigid wall of northern winds. Over 1,200 tornados are produced from those interactions every year. A few brave souls chase those storms down to put weather probes in their path so we can learn how to predict them and stay safe.

“I’m telling you, F.P., this is a terrible idea.”

“Would it kill you to call me Dad, Boy?”

Jughead had to roll his eyes at that. They were arguing over the top of the behemoth tank of a vehicle they’d built by hand. Willingly traveling into the path of tornadoes took a lot of skill, some luck, and a shit-ton of specialized equipment. 

Technically it had been a Dodge Ram at some point, but with all the modifications they’d made to it, it hardly fit that description anymore. All of the shocks and brakes had been replaced to handle all fourteen thousand pounds of total equipment. The engine, likewise, had been upgraded and tinkered with so much to haul such a load it barely had any original parts to it. They cut off the barrier between the cab and bed then fit a steel cage chassis around the outside and covered the whole thing in reinforced steel plates. Even the doors had been refitted so that they now opened upward instead of swinging out. Hell, the windows had also been replaced with bulletproof glass, some of which domed upward over the flatbed so they had a three hundred and sixty degree view of the whole sky and could film nearly as wide.

Nope, it couldn’t be called a Ram anymore. Which was also why all the vehicles in the fleet were parked at the truck stop as Fangs did his best to repair the stupid thing. It was beyond Jughead’s meager skills to fix such a Frankenstein’d mess. Who knew what part came from what manufacturer? Certainly not him. 

Jughead was frustrated that they were losing their first good day on the road to this malfunction. He was even more annoyed that F.P. had somehow managed to get five potential candidates to the remote site for interviews.

“Come on, kid. What’s the harm in hiring a few interns to help out and look pretty in the storm shots?”

“Seriously? You don’t see _any _problem with hiring girls to play arm candy to tornados? This is wrong. You are wrong.” Jughead pointed his finger down into his palm vehemently.__

__A grin cracked across F.P.’s face. “What, are you afraid you might like one of ‘em?”_ _

__Shooting a glare back F.P.’s way, Jughead stomped off toward the circle of intrigued girls pretending they hadn’t just heard every word._ _

__“Listen up, I know that you were told there is an interview process starting today but it’s been cancelled. Best wishes. Enjoy your spring.” As he turned to exit as dramatically as he entered, a cacophony of voices rose behind him._ _

__“But I’m an actual meteorologist!” one girl called out._ _

__“We have actual meteorologists. Don’t need more.”_ _

__Fangs popped out from beneath the hood. He was sweaty and covered in grease. His skin looked even more tanned than usual from the glare he caught off the steel frame. “Unless one of you can get this heap up and running, there are no jobs available. Sayonara.”_ _

__“The hell would you do something like that for, Boy?” F.P. demanded when he got back to the car. Fangs was already out of sight._ _

__He rubbed his hands across his face up and under his beanie. “As I’ve explained a thousand times, our website is popular because we stick with the facts, not gimmicks.”_ _

__“Then how come the sites with the gimmicks are kicking our asses?”_ _

__The duo continued to argue as the air grew thicker with the promise of an impending storm. The oppressive mugginess of the Oklahoma air seemed to be pressing down on them. The thick, omnipresent humidity had everyone’s shirt sticking to them regardless of if they were sweating or not. It was storm weather, they could all feel it deep under their skin. Every minute they spent was one less chance they had to get ahead of the clouds and it was making Jughead’s skin all but crawl off of him._ _

__He had to readjust his crown beanie as his hair began to damply stick to his forehead. He held his ever-present camera away to pull his t-shirt from his chest and billow it out._ _

__“FIXED IT!”_ _

__Jughead and F.P. quit their bickering to lean over and see a girl whose hands were triumphantly held in the air. Her pale skin was barely offset by blonde hair that was curled around her square face and triangular chin. Between her makeup and the tight but modest dress framed by a suit jacket, she looked as though she thought she was auditioning to be a weather girl. To be fair, Jughead hadn’t seen F.P.’s advertisement. For all he knew, that might have been exactly what she thought would happen._ _

__The only imperfection in her look was a light smudge of grease on one cheek and her now blackened hands. With a wrench held up like a baton in one hand, she was oddly endearing._ _

__“I got the job, right? He said I could have the job if I fixed it.” She pointed right at a sheepish looking Fangs._ _

__For just a fleeting moment, he had the urge to photograph her. Her hair was just flaring out with humidity. Satisfaction and joy radiated off her. His fingers twitched on his camera. It only lifted maybe half an inch up before he stopped himself, but it wasn’t quick enough. F.P. caught the movement and smirked._ _

__Jughead turned a glare on Fangs who just shrugged. Jughead groaned then said, “First, he has no authority. Second, we haven’t turned it on yet so there’s no proof you have fixed anything.”_ _

__Just to be an ass, F.P. took that as the perfect time to roar the engine back to life._ _

__“Shit.”_ _

__“Well, well. Would you look at that! If she can fix the S.I.V., I’d say she’s more than just a pretty face, wouldn’t you, Jug? What’s your name, sweetheart, and what brings you all the way out here?”_ _

__Jughead tried to catch his father’s eye to convey his annoyance again._ _

__“I’m Betty, and I’m here because I need a job. Journalism isn’t the field it used to be and chasing storms seems like a good way to work on writing and earn a paycheck at the same time.”_ _

__“You’re a journalist and you thought it would be a good idea to meet a bunch of men you don’t know at a gas station in the middle of nowhere?” Jughead scrutinized her with his eyes as well as his words as he leaned back against the S.I.V. with crossed arms._ _

__“Actually, my mom went to high school with F.P. So, not all strangers I guess. She doesn’t exactly speak highly of you, Sir, but she said I’d be safe with you. Whatever that means.”_ _

__With a startled look, F.P. snapped his fingers at her. “Holy Shit! Are you one of Alice Smith’s girls?”_ _

__“Guilty.”_ _

__“Well, welcome aboard, Betty! We’re about to roll on out of here. Hop in. Be warned, this is a never-ending road trip. We cover room and board, but we stay in shitty motels and eat shitty food with a twenty five dollar per diem per person. If you ever want out, the best we can promise is to drop you at the nearest rest stop.”_ _

__“Oh, thank you so much! I’m a very hard worker and I pick things up fast. I promise.” She sprinted to where she left her bag and back in no time._ _

__As Jughead fumed and clambered into the vehicle, F.P. turned back to the other girls who were standing out on the concrete. F.P. was standing with one foot in the car and one out with his door hanging wide open._ _

__“Did one of you say you’re a meteorologist?”_ _

__“I did!”_ _

__“And you are?”_ _

__“Uh, Ethel, Mr. Jones. I’ve been following your work for some time. I’m actually on fellowship so you wouldn’t even have to pay me. I just want to see some real hands-on application of what I’ve been learning.”_ _

__“You’ll be in B.T. 4 with the boys. That’s the modified Mack truck with the DOW radar on it. Welcome to the team!”_ _

__She had pale skin like Betty, but beyond that, the similarities ended. Ethel had light red hair and was dressed right out of the fifties with polka dots and a cardigan covering her more generous curves. She hustled to her car with her luggage in what felt like slo-mo to Jughead whose anxiousness to hit the road was only growing by the second._ _

__As F.P. told the other girls to pack up and go home, Betty leaned forward between the seats to be level with Jughead._ _

__“Give me two weeks to prove that I’m worth my weight. If you still hate me after that, I’ll leave. No questions asked.”_ _

__He raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s quite an offer. Why make it?”_ _

__“No one likes a hostile co-worker. If the actual environment is going to be hostile to us, I figure you have to be able to trust the people you work with that much more.”_ _

__He didn’t say anything more but offered her a short nod._ _

__F.P. swung down into the car. “Alright, let’s go chase down a supercell! Tornado season is here!”_ _


	2. Near Misses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On March 5th, this past Sunday 23 people died in an Alabama tornado. People in the path got 9-12 minutes of warning. This is why people still chase.
> 
> For all of you who loved Twister, me too! Obviously this story doesn't follow that line, but there was certainly some inspiration.

To Betty’s credit, she actually did a great job of staying out of Jughead’s way that first week. All the girl did was research and type. Every time he turned to look in the backseat, she was either napping or chewing on a pencil while typing away at her computer. Luckily for her, he found the sound of competent typing to be quite soothing. He spent most of their driving hours in his own world with headphones ratcheted tight against his ears so that he could drown the hours of mundane plains away with music and doppler radar.

To his ire, the storms were also doing a great job of staying out of his way. April had the bad habit of being hit or miss for them every year, but not like this. If there were two cells forming, they chose the wrong one. If they were in a town with clear tornado potential, they headed east as the funnels touched down in the west. No matter how they zigged, the weather zagged.

After missing a touchdown near Wichita, KS (honestly, how the hell did they not see a twister in freakin’ Kansas?) they were headed straight south down I-35 to outside of Austin. It was an eight-hour trip even if they didn’t count the stopover in their Oklahoma home base. 

Ten days in and Jughead was just about to call it. The girls were bad luck charms. They had to cut the albatrosses loose and hope for brighter days. There was nothing more interesting out their windows than rolling waves of short, green rows of corn. It was around the soy fields that Betty began asking questions. 

Where had he grown up? New York State, Ohio, a dash of Oklahoma.

When did they start chasing? Not long after Jughead turned fifteen and asked his mom if he could go out on the road with F.P.

What did S.I.V. stand for? Serpent Intercept Vehicle.

F.P. outright guffawed at Jughead when he finally yelled, “I did not agree to play twenty questions! The FUCK?!”

His mouth had been full of fries when he did it. Half of one fell out and landed on the console. Betty looked at F.P. and together they laughed.

“Okay, geez, I get it.” Betty delicately sipped at her shake. “You could have just asked me to stop, ya know.”

“You probably would have asked me why I asked you to stop.”

“This could be a lot worse. I had a lot of my questions answered when I did my research.”

“Now I’m intrigued.” F.P. kept one hand on the steering wheel and used the other to take a bite of his burger. The little burger joint they’d stopped at was one of their usuals. It’s biggest drawback was that the food wasn’t wrapped, making it sloppy highway food. He used his eyebrows and the rearview mirror to ask Betty what she learned.

“For example, I learned that your biggest competition, and probably the reason why you hired me on, are the _Girl Chasers._ Two beautiful lesbians who take half-naked photos in violent weather and have a massive social media following. My guess is that you realized you might need to inject some sex appeal into your own extreme weather photography and video site to help monetize and fund future trips. How did I do?” Betty wiggled smugly.

F.P. took the time to swallow before answering since all Jughead did was scoff. “Not bad. Not bad at all, except of course, for one tiny detail you overlooked. We own _Girl Chasers_.”

Jughead took the time to savor Betty’s incredulous look. “Really? But you guys are always dragging each other on Insta?”

She’d actually said the word Insta. There was no going back in his book. He was forced to write her off as vapid.

F.P. leaned back in the seat, clearly gloating. “All part of the marketing strategy. Let people pick sides. They’re way more willing to throw money our way if they think it’s to help their side ‘win’. Toni is a long time Serpent. Hell, she started riding with me before even Jughead did. Then she got caught up in the redhead and pitched the idea to me. Smart, right?”

Betty shook her head to herself and chuckled as she said, “I have to hand it to you, F.P., I would not have given you that much credit. But that does lead me to a new question, why am I here if not to compete with them?”

“That is why you’re here,” Jughead interjected. “You’re here to settle the point once and for all between me and the Old Man. I think people are still choosing us over the _Girl Chasers_ because they want to see the storms and they like our no-nonsense up front coverage of the facts and science. He thinks hey, if girls worked once, why not try it again?”

“-which leaves me as the guinea pig. If I start showing up in the photos and your hits and donations go up-”

“-that means F.P. is right and I should quit now because there is no integrity left-”

“-but if I show up and nothing changes, then you were right and I’m superfluous and out of a job.”

“Yup.”

“So my options are I’m a symbol of this right vs. wrong argument with your dad so you dislike me and I’m fired or I’m not needed so I’m fired?”

“That’s pretty much the crux of it.” He smirked and bit down on an exceptionally delicious onion ring. It would make the car stink for the rest of the day, but it was so worth it. The deep-fried rings of wonder were the sole reason they always stopped at that restaurant on their way through.

“I’m pretty sure you just challenged me to be your friend. Accepted. I’m an exceptional friend, you’ll see. But since I’ve been working for you guys for a week and a half now and we haven’t done a whole lot other than car maintenance, what am I actually supposed to be doing?”

She stole one of the rings and made a wholly inappropriate sound as she discovered their perfect crispness for herself.

Jughead really did have to admit that the mechanical work was exceptional. She was earning her keep by checking in with each vehicle in the fleet as they pulled into rest stops each night. Sweet Pea had even asked why they hadn’t employed a mechanic sooner. She’d already fixed a few small issues before they got the chances to become big issues. A truck carrying a four foot square radar couldn’t just be left behind. The in-car generators running the image scanning systems simply had to keep running or they were dead in the water.

“Junior here-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“- is quite the photographer. He takes the pictures and video that we sell. Your job is just to be in the shot. Nothing fancy at first. I’m liking the mechanic who just happens to be there angle. If our fans respond well, you’ll be in more shots more… conspicuously.”

“I’m not even a junior, I’m the third person to get this God Forsaken name. Is there even a nickname for that?”

Betty perked up and leaned forward. “And that name would be…?”

“Nope, not happening. And not from you either, Dad. Don’t pretend like you enjoy it either, **F.P.** ”

F.P. turned his head and coughed. “Speaking of Girl Chasers and redheads, when is the other one joining us?”

Grateful for his father changing the subject, Jughead took the bait. “Archie and Fred are still working on their upgrades. They could join us as early as today or as late as next week. Hopefully having our scouts back will give us some luck.”

“Actually-” F.P. leaned so far forward his chest rested on the steering wheel and ketchup from the burger coated his shirt “-we may not need any luck today.”

Jughead looked out to see what his dad was staring at. Out ahead of them was a nasty looking anvil cloud. Soaring towers of white plumes curved out at the very top and bottom. What appeared as two shelves from their perspective was actually a full cylinder of churning drafts posed to drop a cyclone all the way to the ground. 

“Beautiful,” he said breathily.

“This is the leading edge of the storm, right?”

Jughead jumped from the sound of Betty so close to his ear. She was practically on all fours leaning over the console to look at the sky. He nodded, still disturbed by her proximity.

“So now we’re looking for part of this huge cloud system to lower as a wall cloud then start rotating?”

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t completely vapid.

“That’s the idea.” F.P.’s eyes steadily flitted from the storm to the road and back.

Jughead nodded along and added, “The problem, the reason why we all storm chase is that we have exactly zero idea when or where that might happen. A cloud could wall and rotate and still produce nothing. Around seventy percent of tornado warnings are false alarms and that’s _better_ than it used to be; and they’re hardly specific when they’re not false.”

At that moment, they entered the rain.

Jughead sighed. “Finally!”

The rains went from light to heavy. Just before the hail started, the other cars in the fleet were told to hang back and wait to deploy probes on possible intercept paths.

So many golf ball sized rocks of ice fell that the road turned white with it, a sure sign of a violent updraft. The wet air was swept so high in the atmosphere so quickly that the rain coalesced into rocks of ice from the altitude before plummeting down.

This was the part Jughead liked the best. He hated most of the chase. Not having his own bed to sleep in and eating crap, among other things, all fell away when they were undeniably on the right path.

The smell of powdered make up permeated the S.I.V. Betty was caking it on. She’d also lost the ponytail she’d worn every day except that first one.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded of her, angry that his attention was pulled from the sky.

Nervously, she paused. “Getting ready? I’m supposed to get prettied up for the pictures.”

Jughead all but growled. “No. Fuck that. I’m the photographer. I get to choose. Get your dirtiest overalls on and put the ponytail back. You aren’t an Instagram influencer. You are Mechanic Betty. Give me authentic or quit now.”

“Jesus. You are just constantly grumpy,” she said as she pulled her hair back up.

“Yeah, why is that?” F.P. teased.

“Eyes on the road.” 

A few miles in front of them, a wall cloud started to descend. Moments later, a counterclockwise wind started spinning the feature. 

“Sweet Pea! Give me roads!” F.P. shouted into the radio. The S.I.V. swerved down a dirt road heading west at Sweet Pea’s direction. 

Jughead unbuckled and made his way to the mounted camera seat surrounded by windows in the back. With its five-point harness, it was possibly the safest seat in the vehicle, although not terribly legal. Passing by Betty as she changed out of her jeans into the overalls was a study in focus. He had a job, too.

The structure was well defined with clear features he could see once the hail had stopped. It was a very photogenic system. 

The rotation tightened up. A white funnel began to descend.

Betty let out a whoop of pure elation then turned a gorgeous smile his way that he had no choice but to return.

“Brace yourselves, kids! This is called an intercept vehicle for a reason, Betty. It’s basically a rolling probe. If we can get ourselves into a funnel, we’re going for it. Doiley! I need an EF before we go into this thing!”

Between crackled static, Dilton, their lead meteorologist in charge of the doppler info, returned that it was an EF 2, well within the S.I.V.’s ability to withstand.

The energy inside the car was nearly as electric as the strikes of lightning spiking the fields. 

“DAMNIT!”

The harness tightened on Jughead’s chest as they rapidly decelerated. “What the hell?!”

“I’m going to kill Sweet Pea!” F.P. angrily slammed his palm against the steering wheel.

The road was a dead end. Just a few short miles ahead of them, the white funnel touched the ground. A wide circle of debris flowed around it. Frustrated but undeterred, Jughead captured the tornado with his camera.

“Alright, you’re up,” he said to Betty once he’d run out of excuses. He directed her to just walk around in the drizzle and look at the storm. The picture he just knew was ‘The Shot’ featured both Betty and F.P. in the frame on either side of the side-winding tunnel. The storm was clearly the focus, but somehow, dressed down Betty with her thumbs in her overall loops was undeniably the subject.

He had no doubt it would be the most liked and downloaded shot of the day. 

_Shit. ___


	3. A Weird Kind of Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned yet that @buggghead edits this and puts up with my lack of commas?

“I can’t believe they got ahead of us, again!” Jughead grumbled as he scrolled through feeds on his laptop. Cheryl and Toni were hand in hand, swirling around with each other in front of a modest twister.

The fleet was stopped for the night at a motel that boasted stovetops and microwaves in each room along with HBO. There was no reason for everyone on the team to be hanging out in the common area watching one crappy TV and chatting about their day, but that’s exactly what they were doing. 

Ben, Dilton, and Ethel were off in one corner analyzing the data from the day and looking at the forecast for the next. They looked genuinely intrigued with the print outs they passed back and forth. To him, it looked like voluntary homework. He obviously loved meteorology too, but there had to be a line.

“Can I see?” Betty moved before he could answer. She sat on the arm of the yellow flower patterned loveseat and draped herself over his shoulder to see the screen better. He leaned uncomfortably backward to avoid being enveloped by the smell of her hair. He refused to be the creeper who sniffed a ponytail.

“Your pictures are way better than theirs. Sure, they get more upfront shots, but there’s no composition and their lighting is crap. That picture you took of the Texas storm still has a ton more hits, too.” She poured a few more Skittles into her mouth. Dinner that night consisted of whatever people could scavenge from the local gas station

They were just outside of Ozark, Missouri for the night following a partially successful day of chasing. They’d gotten more video of some pretty violent storms, but hadn’t been able to gather any real data or deploy any probes. Doiley had created a drone that was designed to fly into a funnel and relay back information in real time before it was inevitably destroyed by pressure and debris. Jughead was itching to see it in action. He was also dead set on getting into a tornado this season no matter what.

“You know, Jug, I’ve been on the team for almost three weeks and you haven’t fired me yet.”

Fangs snapped his head their way. “Jughead, if you fire the mechanic I swear to God I’m quitting.”

Sweet Pea took advantage of the distraction to peek at Fangs’ cards. They were playing poker with F.P. at a nearby table. After seeing his friend’s hand, he promptly folded. F.P. followed suit right after.

“But I had a really good hand!” Fangs whined.

“We know, you can’t bluff for shit.” F.P. winked at Betty while Sweet Pea cleared the cards to deal out the next hand.

“I concede, you’re not terrible for business. Besides, who else is going to listen to True Crime podcasts with me on the road?”

A few days prior when they stopped for a restroom break, they’d discovered they were listening to the same podcast on serial killers. Now they had each other to talk to about the interesting things they learned about the dregs of society along the barren stretches of highway.

“Does this mean you’re officially keeping me on for the rest of the season?”

He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I guess it does.”

Betty squealed as she pulled him into a tight hug. It was a brief, but poignant reminder of how little physical contact he’d had with other people. His father wasn’t much of a hugger, more of a stiff hand on a shoulder kind of a guy. It was warm, solid, and steadying in a way that something lasting less than five seconds shouldn’t have been.

“Well, well. Would you look at this pile of half-drowned rats?!” Fred Andrews ruffled off his hair with a huge grin as he came in from the rain. The entire room sans Betty and Ethel greeted Archie and Fred with a round of handshakes and shoulder claps.  

“You’re late, Archie,” Jughead said with a big smile.

“Better late than never! Hey, did you hear about the cells coming up in Arkansas tomorrow? Moisture looks right, winds are looking good. I think we’re looking at a great day.” 

A look spread between Fred, Jughead, and F.P. The three of them crossed their arms and all gave Archie the same incredulous look.

“Oh, Arkansas looks good, does it?” Fred said with an arched brow.

“Even with the lack of back roads and trees everywhere?” Jughead accused.

“And I suppose that even though the storms are predicted in Jonesboro, you want us to drive through Little Rock, right?” F.P. finished the interrogation.

A light pink blush spread over Archie’s cheeks. “We don’t have to stop on the way there. We could stop on the way back.”

“Alright, I’ll bite.” Betty slipped down from the arm of the couch, forcing herself into Jughead’s space. “What is in Little Rock?”

He subtly shifted into her warmth. “A diner. By the way, Archibald, this is Betty the mechanic. Betty, this is Arch. Let’s see if we can make his dreams come true. Hey Dilton, what’s the latest for tomorrow?”

The meteorology team looked at the latest scans and whispered amongst themselves for a while longer. They nodded a consensus and Ben turned to the group. “Honestly? Nothing looks spectacular, but there is some okay looking moisture and wind collecting over Arkansas. It’s shifted a little south and west since we last checked. We’re thinking around Cabot.”

“Looks like you might get your wish, Arch. Cabot is only thirty minutes north of Little Rock.”

Betty giggled as Archie pumped his fist. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Archie. I hope the diner lives up to the hype. If they don’t have decent shakes, I’m not sure we can be friends.”

“Seriously, seriously, they’re so good. You won’t be disappointed. Are you guys playing poker?”

Not too long after that, the groups dispersed to their individual rooms. Or, at least most people went to their own rooms. Jughead’s room, which he shared with F.P., was flooded with the raucous poker game. Ben had even joined in. Close to midnight, Jughead looked around at the six men still laughing and chatting and realized his room was not the place to get a good night’s sleep. He didn’t feel comfortable claiming one of the couches in the lobby, so he went out to his second home, the S.I.V.

“Jughead?”

He yelped and pressed his body hard against the door at the unexpected noise. A figure moved in the shadows of the back seat before stealing into the lights from the street. “Betty? What are you doing out here?”

She surveyed the blankets he’d brought with him. “Same as you. Trying to sleep.”

“But why are you sleeping out here? You do have a room, don’t you?”

“Don’t you? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Jughead reclined his seat back. “My room became party central. You?”

“When Ethel came aboard, I thought, ‘Cool. Another girl. We have different jobs so there won’t be any weird feminine competition thing going on’. We’re not even in the same car since she’s traveling with Fangs and Sweet Pea with the DOW.

“I tried, I really did, but it turns out it’s not a girl vs girl thing, I just genuinely dislike her. She keeps preaching to me about how I should quit because I’m not chasing for the ‘right’ reasons. I couldn’t take it for another night. I’m hiding. You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”

He smothered a chuckle. “Only a little. I’m having a hard time picturing Ethel pissing off anyone. I wasn’t aware she really had a personality. Is that mean to say?”

“Can we change the subject? I came here to  _ not  _ think about Ethel. Did you like the book I got you?”

That was another thing they had in common. In a small Nebraska city, Jughead walked into a secondhand bookstore and found Betty among the stacks. Since then, they’d visited four mom and pop bookshops together. At the last one, she’d bought him Fight Club after hearing he’d never read the book despite loving the movie.

“Yeah. I really did. I am Joe’s righteous indignation.”

“See? Told you I’m a good friend.”

They spent a few long moments just breathing in the dark. “Are you going to go back in after Ethel falls asleep?”

“No. I like it out here. With all these windows, it’s like camping under the stars.”

It truly was stunning. Jughead had spent his fair share of nights in the S.I.V. over the years, and a clear night sky seen through the camera dome was a tough sight to beat.

“If you want to leave, don’t be afraid of waking me up.”

“You too, Jug, goodnight.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“OOOOoooohhh. Now I get it,” Betty sang as she bounced in the booth.

Archie was making big, puppy eyes at a shapely brunette working the tables. The yellow and white of her vintage waitress outfit actually complimented her olive skin tone nicely. She wasn’t anything close to Jughead’s type, but he could admit that she was pretty stunning. Archie was practically drooling over her. 

“Does he know her name?” Betty whispered to Jughead. A shiver overtook him. He didn’t trust himself to speak so he just nodded and shoved more fries in his mouth. Waking up surrounded by the smell of sleepy Betty had messed with his ability to function all day. When his father had asked where he’d slept, he’d simply said someplace without a half dozen people. The storms that had looked somewhat promising dissipated into regular thunderstorms when they were on the road, leaving Jughead nothing else to draw his attention.

Like every adult on Earth, Jughead hated having a crush. He had been living happily under the impression that such things didn’t affect people his age, so he was quite disgruntled to realize he was hyper-aware of every move Betty made. He was attuned to her noises, to how her moods shifted. He longed to ask her about her youth and the book she was working on. He wanted to curl up with her under one shared blanket and spill secrets to each other all night. 

It was disgusting. 

“Veronica!” Archie waved like a golden retriever shaking its tail at a long lost owner. If Jughead had to suffer through an intense infatuation, at least he got to watch someone else suffer as well. Much of the team had opted out of the trip to Pop’s, but misery loved company so Jughead made the executive decision to observe someone who was obvious in their pursuit.

“Archibald Andrews,” the woman drawled seductively. “If it isn’t my favorite long term customer. What is this, year six? And Jughead, one of the best eaters I’ve ever seen, how have you been?”

Jughead tipped a fry in acknowledgment, ecstatic that his best friend had at least fallen for a girl who worked a restaurant with quality food.

“Seven, I think. Oh, and this is Betty and Ethel. They’re new to our crew. Just met them yesterday. I thought they looked like they needed some good road food, and Pop’s is the absolute best.”

“Damn straight it is. I see you guys got your food already, but let me see what else I can scrounge up. We’re thinking of adding cheese curds to the menu. Feel like being guinea pigs?” After a chorus of yeses, she left again.

“Isn’t she amazing?” Archie sighed after her. His body was half turned as he tracked her movements with his eyes.

“Uh, sure, Arch,” Betty said quizzically. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, asking her on a date?”

He swung around to face the table. “I’m working on it.”

Betty gave him a face that called bullshit. “For seven years?”

“No, four years. I had a girlfriend when we met. I don’t even live in this state and she’s  _ so  _ out of my league.”

“I think you should go for it,” Ethel interjected.

As attuned to Betty as he was, he could feel her whole body tense then relax, as if she’d completely forgotten Ethel was there until she spoke.

“If you like someone, you should just go for it.” 

Jughead hoped he had imagined it, but he could swear Ethel looked at him right then from under shy, half-lidded eyes.

“Ethel’s right. Go for it. The worst that happens is she says no.”

“You know what? I think I will. As soon as she’s-”

“I said you have to LEAVE.” Veronica’s voice cut clear across the diner. Archie was up and over the bench before Ethel had even moved to let him pass.

Jughead angrily tossed a fry down to offer his best friend back up. It was easy to spot the trouble. Ghoulies had tried to come flooding in. Veronica was single-handedly holding them at bay through sheer force of personality. 

“And I said, I want to speak to a manager,” Malachai said condescendingly.

“How about the owner? Because that’s me. I own five Pop’s locations and three nightclubs. Are you assuming that I’m just some grunt based on my age and gender? Boring. Last year I told you no shirts, no shoes, no trash. Last year you brought seven severe weather tourists here and told them you were footing the bill before you left without paying. You are not welcome here, or any Pop’s location - ever again. Who do you think the cops are going to side with, hmm? Me or you? Now get the hell off of my property.”

They attempted to look defiant, but it was a hard to look to achieve while retreating.

“Wow, Veronica. That was so badass!” Archie looked even more adoring than before. Jughead figured he was safe to make his way back to the booth.

“I like her,” Betty whispered loudly as he slid back in.

“Me too.”

Ethel cleared her throat. “So, Jughead, that was some exciting RFD wind we saw in Missouri, right? If you ever want someone to analyze that footage with, I’ve found myself with a lot of free time on the road. I think we could have some fun together, looking it over.”

Betty tensed up even worse than before, possibly in an attempt not to laugh. 

“Thank you for the offer, Ethel, but I’ve had several courses on Meteorology. I’ve got it.”

“Well, if you ever change your mind, it won’t be hard to find me for the next month or two. Seeing as how we live in the same places.”

“Hey, what’s the deal with those guys?” Betty asked as she tracked the convoy of strangers across the parking lot. Ethel was still making flirty eyes at Jughead as he grew increasingly uncomfortable. 

“Ghoulies. They run tornado tourist traps. Amateurs pay to go on two-week chases. There are a few quality companies that show people a great time. The Ghoulies are notorious for not paying tabs, not chasing safely, and not offering refunds.  _ Twice  _ they’ve gotten people injured. They’re notorious along chasing routes.”

“Steer clear of Ghoulies, got it.”

“Shouldn’t be an issue for you, Betty,” Ethel said with fake sweetness.

Betty’s eyes narrowed. She placed both elbows on the table and folded her hands. “And why is that, Ethel?”

“Well, you’re hardly a weather enthusiast like us. You’ll have fun chasing this season, but will you really be back?”  

With deadly seriousness, Betty said, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”


	4. Catching the Storm

It was official. Pictures with #MechanicBetty were getting way more hits than the photos of plain twisters or of any other member of the team. The more he grumbled about it, the more Betty assured him it was because the pictures with her deliberately in them had the best artistic quality; it wasn’t her presence that made them more appealing. What made him grumble even harder was that she was somehow both right and way off the fucking mark simultaneously.

Those pictures were absolutely the best pictures he’d taken of the storms, but they were the best  _ because  _ she was in them. Instead of trying to focus on a huge object that he couldn’t light or control, he placed her around them. He’d stopped trying to get the storms to conform to his lens and placed her instead. As a result, all of it began to look better. 

It had even led their Twitter followers to ask for a Betty photo shoot. For the first time they were going to try putting her into makeup and wardrobe before taking pictures, but before they could, the weather changed.

There had been a few solid days where the weather had been nice. Everywhere. Not a single promising thunderstorm had shown up across ten states. In those five days, the caravan scattered to the wind except for the Jones and Andrews men. Betty hopped a last minute flight to go see her mother because the tickets were so cheap. 

Sitting at home for days with perfectly blue skies, Jughead missed her. There wasn’t even anything for him to do to take his mind off of her. As the other three jammed out on guitars and drums, Jughead searched for books and podcasts to share with her. He thought of stories he’d never told her. 

“She won’t like that one,” F.P. said, peering over Jughead’s shoulder at his laptop.

“Who?” Jughead’s feigned ignorance fooled no one. “You know, I’ve been interested in the Black Hood for a while now, and I hear this version had a lot of input from his ex-wife. It’s got great reviews, what’s not to like?”

“By all means, listen to it, whatever. I’m just saying that maybe you don’t want to listen to it while Betty’s in the car is all.”

With a shrug, Jughead simply said, “Fine.”

But since Jughead’s focus had shifted to photography over research, he was going to be in the scout car with Betty and Archie instead of the S.I.V. What F.P. didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him and he thought he knew Betty a bit better than his father. He knew her tastes.

“Not that one,” were the first words out of her mouth when the boys picked her up from the tiniest Nebraska airport that may have ever existed. It was a single runway with the security line right next to the only baggage carousel.

He and Archie exchanged confused looks across the dash of the blue Ford. “I thought you’d like this.”

“Just… just not that one. Didn’t you say you had a good Jacob Wetterling one? Or the one about that crazy spine doctor?”

Archie saw his chance. “Or I have some kickin’ music.”

Betty stared him down as she said, “All in favor of the podcasts?”

Jughead raised his hand alongside her.

“All in favor of music?” she asked sarcastically. 

Archie raised one hand with his eyes still on the road. He seemed sincerely let down when he looked around and saw no other enthusiasm. “Oh come on guys! I’m the driver, the driver gets to pick the tunes!”

He wasn’t just the driver, but also the vision behind the truck. Like the S.I.V., it was custom designed. The engine was newer, but without any computerized parts. Even the windows had to be rolled down by hand. It made the Ford easy to fix, but it was slow to accelerate. The interior had also been retrofitted to look like a much older model. There were modern seat belts, but bench seats in the front and back. The Andrews men went camping often and when something prevented them from sleeping outside, they wanted the truck to be as comfortable as possible. Archie picked everything by hand.

“No, the navigator gets to pick, and I say that we’re listening to the podcast. Betts, if you would set it up.” He handed the aux cable over to her.

Betty happily bounced in her seat before grabbing it. “Sorry, Newbie, you’ve been outvoted.”

“Newbie? I’ve been chasing storms for years! You’re not allowed to drive unless you’re experienced. _ Which I am _ .”

“Not this season. This season, you showed up too little too late. You’ve seen  _ how  _ many tornadoes this year? None? That’s what I thought. Break out your headphones, it’s True Crime Time.” She held out her hand for Jughead to slap.

“Did you get anything good to wear for our shoot?” He should have just sat in back with her. His body was twisted halfway around to look at her. His back ached from the effort immediately.

“I went thrift shopping. My friend Josie knows all the best spots in the city. She knows where the rich women who only wear an outfit once drop stuff off. I also got a few cool vintage pieces. How do you feel about an avant-garde fashion shoot instead of your storm purist shots?”

“I happen to take photos all year, not just during tornado season. I’ve been known to get some decent photos of human beings.”

“How have I never seen any of those?”

“How have I never read any of your articles? Or read a single bit of what you’ve been typing away on all month? I will agree to a straight work exchange.”

Betty pursed her lips and fussed with her ponytail. “I don’t have any hard copies, but I can share a few Google Docs I guess.”

They shook hands on it. “Okay, and now for some Dr. Death.”

“Or, I have a lot of Beatles,” Archie pleaded one last time.

“-Veto.”    

_ “-Veto.” _

“Jinx! You owe me a coke, Juggie!”

Jughead avoided Archie’s suspicious smile.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

While Jughead missed the protection and intercept abilities of the S.I.V., there were some definite advantages to chasing in the scout vehicle. Once it got up to speed, it was fast, relatively light, and as low to the ground as a truck could be, allowing them to get ahead of storms and rain bands.

The next few weeks of chasing were among his favorite that season. The three of them fell into an easy camaraderie, as if they’d been a trio for decades. They raced ahead of the looming thunderheads and curtains of hail-soaked rain to spot funnels before they touched down.

Along the way, the collection of photographs of Jughead’s muse continued to grow. Some featured Betty with streaks of black grease marring her cheeks, others starred elegant dresses caught in the wind. There were no restrictions placed on them other than the direction to race off to.

He was also loving the freedom of being among friends. In the Ford, Jughead was the navigator with no F.P. to contend with. No matter how good their relationship was, there would always be some tension between them. It all just bled off of his shoulders as he got to laugh and listen to the conversations floating around the truck. It was hardly work tracking the barreling storms with the radar on the mounted laptop. The clouds around them darkened into ominous skies around their light-hearted banter.

“-how could they keep letting that man operate after all those mistakes? We need better checks on health professionals!” Archie ranted as Jughead and Betty chuckled at his vehemence.

She had one long arm swimming up and down along the wind out her window. In the rearview mirror, he could see it blowing her hair in and around her face. “Uh, Arch, I’m glad you liked the podcast, but is it just me or did the sky turn green?”

They all turned their eyes skyward. Jughead told her, “It’s pretty common with these storms. It doesn’t show up in photos and gives us pretty good lighting. This is actually perfect weather for pictures. Pick out your favorite dress and start changing. I’m seeing some rotation. We could get a funnel any minute.”      

The huge, white horizontal band of an inflow vein came into view. Jughead called for Archie to pull over. He could feel eerily warm wind press against his back as he stepped out from the door. The pressure changed the feel of the air. It was low enough that his ears felt like they wanted to pop but couldn’t. He worked his jaw around to alleviate the odd sensation. 

The drop in pressure didn’t take nearly as much of his breath away as the sight of Betty stepping out of the truck in the flowy, backless black satin dress. A rope of fabric just under the bust was basically all the triangular pieces of the top were sewed onto. A new bout of wind tugged the dress toward the storm, forming it against her curves on the other side. Her hair, down from its usual ponytail, trailed across her throat and face. The camera was up and clicking before he was consciously aware of the choice.

It was hard to pull his focus away. “Um, okay, so, it looks like we’ve got a rotating wall cloud maybe a couple of miles away. We’ve got great inflow. I think we’re in a prime location for a tornado.”

The gravel crunched underfoot as they prepped the best they could along the deserted Texas road. They were surrounded by low fields, not a building in sight. The soggy white of the lowering cloud was rotating quickly and tightening down as they set up a few lamps Jughead knew they probably weren’t even going to use. It was just an excuse to do something as they waited for a true funnel to extend from the heavens.   

As the tendrils of a white rope vortex reached toward earth, Betty moved into the shot. With immense grace, she twisted her arms the exact way he directed her to. Left, right, up, down - she quickly moved into different positions while making it look like time was standing still.

“I’m going to move around you to make it look like the funnel is coming down right on top of you. I want you to extend your arms up, head back like a ballerina. Perfect. One leg slightly up? Alright, now soften your face completely down, as if the wind is nothing.”

In that moment, when her face lost any sign of worry about the storm advancing toward them, the end of the twister began to pick up debris and build from the ground. Betty’s hands appeared to be conjuring it forth from the depths. The heavy smell of disturbed dirt filled the air.

“We have to go!” Archie yelled across the winds. 

Jughead hadn’t realized how much sound was getting swallowed in the strength of the storm until his friend’s words were swept away. The storm that had been miles away was suddenly too close for comfort. Archie peeled away toward the east as soon as their doors slammed shut.

“WooooOOOO!” Archie excitedly pounded the steering wheel with his palm. “I loved that! Ugh! And those shots! Man, it’s going to look so good.”

“You think so?” Betty asked between chattering teeth. A towel was being rubbed vigorously up and down her arms.  

“Hell yeah! Jug’s a whiz and it looked so cool from where I was standing.”

“Gorgeous,” Jughead said with a nod. He cleared his throat and made sure his eyes stayed on the road. The radio crackled with the location of the other vehicles. The DOW car made it, the S.I.V. got video, but wasn’t able to intercept. They called ahead to a motel that could accommodate them all. 

The seven-minute trip there took an eternity. Betty changed out of her wet clothes under the towel into a sweater with the neckline cut out and a pair of skin-tight pants that took way too much wiggling to get into for Jughead’s sanity. When Archie ran ahead to check in and get keys, Betty and Jughead were left to deal with the luggage. In the middle of unloading, Betty’s eyes wandered away to the road. 

“What are you looking at?”

“Would you like to come check something with me?” She was moving toward the only tree in sight planted just next to the sidewalk before he answered. Despite all of their belongings sitting on the damp asphalt, he followed. 

“Look!” she cried excitedly. “Caterpillars.”

Crawling along the ridge of her hand was a green caterpillar so tiny he was astonished she’d seen it in the first place.

“In my research, I read that the low pressure from cells can cause caterpillars to hatch. Some Native American cultures even thought the caterpillars brought tornadoes. I’m so glad I got to see one! Okay back to your leaf, little one.”

With utter care and gentleness, she placed it back on its spot. She radiated a contented joy that flowed out and built gradually under his skin, too. She was absolutely stunning standing there with the oranges of sunset to her back and a face full of kindness. In that moment, she could not have been more flawless in his eyes.

Ever so slowly, he raised a hand to her cheek and leaned in for a kiss.

Her own hand found a spot on his neck before their lips fully touched. It was the softest first meeting of lips he’d ever experienced. Both of them gave the other time to pull back and make awkward excuses. But neither did. They just stood in the fading light of the gloaming, exchanging gentle, closed-mouth kisses. 

The blaring of car horns broke them apart. Jughead had to move out from behind the tree to see what all the fuss was about. Roaring down the road was a cherry red car ahead of the caravan coming in for the night. They were all waving and whooping at each other while incessantly beeping.

Betty peeked around with him. “What in the world-?”

“Prepare yourself. You’re about to meet the  _ Girl Chasers _ .”

Toni wasn’t even buckled in. She was sitting on the headrest of a red leather seat, letting a scarf fly behind her in the wind of the convertible. 

Betty’s hand trailed down Jughead’s arm then danced on his fingers as if she was about to take his hand, but didn’t. He swallowed his disappointment as they made their way back to the truck. 

Cheryl came to an abrupt stop right next to them across three parking spaces. In typical Blossom fashion, she lowered her sunglasses to look them both up and down. “Well, well. Look at what the trash dragged in. This must be the infamous Mechanic Betty. Can you  _ actually  _ fix cars or are you just here to rev the motors of boys on the internet?”

She exited the car in a cascade of red hair and condescension then leaned against the door, waiting for an answer.

“Oh, I’m an actual grease monkey,” Betty said with fake cheer. 

Cheryl answered with an even faker smile. “Excellent. My baby’s been making a weird thunking noise. You are employed by the Serpents, correct? Which means your job is to… service whomever should need help?”

“I’m sorry, you are...?”

“Cheryl. Blossom. Yes, of the rich and famous Blossoms. And this is my T.T. You may call her Toni.”

Toni came around and wrapped an arm over Cheryl’s shoulder before snuggling against her hair. “Be kind, she’s new. Betty, we’d appreciate it if you could look at the car before we head out tomorrow.”

“WEEEOOO! Did you see that? Beautiful Twister!” F.P. was shouting before he’d come to a complete stop. Not far behind him, Sweet Pea and Fangs pulled up with Ethel as Jughead and Betty began hauling in everything that was deemed too expensive to stay in the cars.   

The once sleepy motel was suddenly alive with the mountain of adrenaline-filled chasers gesturing wildly as they recounted the tales of what they’d seen that day.

In the middle of all of it was Jughead, his chest burning with an unfamiliar sensation. He was filled with butterflies. Crackling nerves that demanded he pull Betty back out to that tree. He wanted to rewind back to that perfect moment under the leaves. Since that was impossible, he’d settle for simply getting her alone to talk about what had happened and how much he wanted it to continue. Indefinitely, if she’d let it. But that wasn’t going to happen. The spell had been shattered by Cheryl’s stupid convertible. Fangs was helping Betty set up lamps in the lot so she could see even in the fading sunlight. All he could do was watch helplessly from the window, waiting for the moment when Fangs left.

“I’m starving. Come on, Boy. Let’s you and me get the team some grub. Somewhere in this town is a pizza joint. We’re going to find it.”

F.P. had always had the power to make Jughead fall in line. At least he’d gotten to shout to Betty where he was going before he was dragged into the S.I.V.

An hour and a half later when they’d doled out food and Jughead could finally get to Betty’s room while Ethel was busy eating, he found her still fully clothed on top of the covers, sound asleep.

His feelings would have to keep for another day.


	5. Pasts Catch Up

The next morning Jughead came out of his room to one of his worst nightmares. Next to the motel’s crappy continental breakfast of single serve cereals and stale bagels was Betty laughing with all of the people who represented his childhood. Archie, Toni, and F.P. were all in an uproar over some story that was certainly about him. Ethel was also at the table, leaning in to hear the good stuff.

It was confirmed when he approached and Betty, mid-giggle, turned around to stare at him. “Jughead Jones, how have I never heard about you starting a ‘motorcycle gang’?”

His head swung low in remembered shame. He chose to walk away toward the bagels instead of dealing with the renewed laughter at the table. It wasn’t like he didn’t know the story. It was one of F.P.’s favorite tales of young Jughead. When he was five, he’d gone around the neighborhood on his tricycle convincing other children to join him in his demands. Toni was among the first to join ranks. Together they terrorized the streets, demanding more snacks and access to the playground. For the two weeks it lasted, the adults indulged them, cementing his lifelong friendship to Toni.

He took his time spreading the cream cheese to give them time to simmer down. The downside was that when he returned, Cheryl was seated, looking impossibly made up and smug as hell. 

Luckily, there was one surefire way to distract any team of storm chasers. “Where are the cells today?”

Out of nowhere, Ben and Dilton descended on the table with their laptops and radar images, saving him from further humiliation. While he appreciated the save, he scowled at their choice to position themselves right between himself and Betty. 

“Dixie Alley is looking prime for a big set of storms. We’re talking multiple days-”

“-tons of rotation. Big winds, warm air off the Gulf-”

“-and this Canadian cold front just coming in today. We’re looking at some great late afternoon weather.”

Ben and Dilton’s voices cascaded over each other, washing the table in their contagious enthusiasm. The images showed an amazing few days for chasing, which equated to terrifying days for the residents. They normally didn’t chase in populated places or wooded areas, but with the chain of storms forming, it’d be hard to avoid.

“If I had to bet for today, I’d have to go with Umpire, Kansas,” Ben concluded with a flourish.

“How far is that from Little Rock?” Archie asked to a chorus of groans.

“Uh, about two hours. They’re not in danger, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not.” Archie sighed disappointedly.

“You know,” Cheryl said with a shimmy, “I hear there is an amazing new club in Little Rock. We could chase and then dance the night away before crashing.”

“I’m out on that one.” F.P. threw his hands up. Fred nodded sagely alongside him.

“That sounds like it could be fun.” Betty seemed earnest in her enthusiasm, and if she was going, of course Jughead was going to talk himself into showing up.

“Tell me that this bar is known for its amazing food.”

Cheryl looked at him with pure disdain. “Really, Shaggy, all you care about is the food? As a matter of fact, I’ve heard good things. But by all means, feel free to stay behind.”

Ben slammed a fist on the table, knocking over drinks and sending people sprawling away. “WHO CARES?! If we want to make these storms we have to leave NOW!”

Scramble mode was activated. It was time to grab and run. It was only 6:15 in the morning, but the winds paid that no mind, they were already on the move, which meant the chasers had to be too.   

“Head Check!” F.P. called out the roll call. The scout car had their people. The meteorology team was ready to roll. S.I.V. team was all good. “Ethel! Where the hell is the rest of the DOW team?”

“I don’t know, sir. I haven’t seen Fangs or Sweet Pea yet.”

The collective frustration was palpable as Ethel went to go wake up her vehicle mates. If they had only been able to leave in that moment, the news crew wouldn’t have caught up with them.

As they all stood around waiting for the all clear to get rolling, two big, white news vans roared into the lot. Before they were even at a complete stop, a door was sliding open to reveal a blonde woman with perfectly quaffed hair and a microphone headed right at Cheryl.

“Oh God,” Cheryl mumbled. Louder she shouted, “I don’t do interviews that haven’t been cleared with my P.R. people.”

The lady swerved slightly to approach F.P. “Mr. Jones, how do you feel about housing the daughters of not one, but two murderers? Clifford Blossom was convicted of the murder of his son. Hal Cooper has a body count of at least eight. Their children have chosen to follow you on the road.  What does that say about you? What does that say about storm chasing?”

The woman spotted Betty across the lot. With a crick of her head, she indicated the camera should close in on her. Reflexively, Jughead looked to Betty. Her face was drained of color. She swayed where she stood. The crew stood between her and the safety of the scout truck. With just a glance and a nod to Archie, they used their bodies to shield her. 

“Betty! Betty Cooper! Just last night your father was sentenced to his third consecutive life sentence. His case has single handedly called New York’s lack of the Death Penalty in to question. How do you feel about that?”

When she turned to walk to the S.I.V. it was with her head held high. By unspoken consensus, the cars were about to shift occupants for the day. Because the S.I.V. was an absolute tank of a car, Betty was able to climb into the back and duck beneath view. F.P. tossed the keys perfectly to Archie’s outstretched hand. The reporter was outside the window up to the moment the wheels started rolling.

Nobody complained when ‘Hey Jude’ began to play over the speakers, covering the sound of Betty’s quiet sobs. 

Their hike from the Texas panhandle all the way to Arkansas meant traversing the whole of Oklahoma’s nothingness. The cities were nothing but traffic traps that were avoided at nearly all costs. They drove within a stone’s throw of their Norman house but didn’t stop. The storms were racing so fast they were barely staying ahead. Five hours of throwing dust across the plains with barely a word spoken.

The most he’d heard from the back seat were small squeaks of the leather when Betty moved. Almost her whole face was obscured by her sweatshirt. The weathered grey hood hung low enough to hide her eyes. Even stopped at a gas station with Archie pumping and scavenging for snacks, she was quiet. Unable to take it for another second, Jughead slid over the console into the back. She moved her legs out of his way but turned her head to look out of the window.

“Did you know that F.P. did five years for murder?” The barest twitch let him know that she was listening.

“It’s the reason why I moved with my mother down to Ohio in the first place. Everyone knew me as the kid whose dad was a killer. It was the worst. The whispers, the looks. Even little things, like no one wanting to be my lab partner. When I moved, I had a year of reprieve, but then my Mom went to jail for two months. Suddenly, everyone knew about all of it again and there was nowhere to run. When F.P. was cleared of the charges, it didn’t even help. He was still convicted of conspiracy, they just let him go with time served. 

“Oklahoma was a fresh start for our reputations. When F.P. started chasing, I thought he was crazy, but there’s this whole community without judgment. It’s like a modern day traveling circus. Freaks welcome. We all have a closet full of skeletons that we’re hiding from the ‘real’ world. Of all the girls F.P. could have chosen that day, I’m glad it was you. And I promise not to try and make you listen to any Black Hood podcasts.”

That earned him a slight chuckle. She didn’t quite hold his hand, but she did slip one long, delicate pinky under to hook with his own. They sat in quiet until Betty sniffled and raised the hood enough to show off red-rimmed eyes.

“I really really have to pee.” They both broke into giggles.

“Do you want me to walk with you? I’m pretty sure people will think that I’ve been beating you, but I can take the heat.”

“Thanks. I’d like that.”

They certainly got some odd looks, but Jughead considered it worth it. 

++++++++++++++++

Thankfully, the day got better. They didn’t get within five miles of a tornado, but they got some excellent footage and pictures anyway that local new stations paid for up front to get the shots on the nightly news.

It was closing in on dusk when the storms suffocated under the weight of the rains. The drive up to Little Rock was easy and clear. It was a perfect opportunity for everyone except Archie to catch a nap. 

Almost the entire team chose to head out to Little Rock. Only F.P. and Fred decided to stay behind in Umpire with the scout truck. Getting ready to leave the motel at ten P.M. wasn’t something that Jughead had ever done. He wasn’t the late night party type, but the girls scooped Betty up, leaving him with Archie who spent more time on his hair than Jughead would have thought possible.

Even with all the time Archie’d spent on each strand atop his head, the girls still begged for more time, leaving the boys to get to the club way before them. Jughead normally hated clubs, but the Speakeasy concept was pretty cool, and more importantly, it was giving him the chance to eat some food.

“My God! These fries are amazing,” he moaned through a mouthful. “And they taste familiar. The burger, too. It kind of reminds me of…”

Archie’s gaze was flitting around the room, searching for someone even though the girls weren’t due to show up for another half hour. Jughead waited for Archie to look back his way before he purposely threw an accusatory fry at his face.

“This is Pop’s food! This is one of Veronica’s clubs isn’t it!”

“This isn’t my fault! It was Cheryl’s idea! When she mentioned the new club, I Googled it and it just so happens that Veronica is the owner.”

“Man are you lucky this burger is juicy and flavorful and awesome, or I would cut and run.”

“I think that’s her!”

In a tight, dark blue number complete with elegant elbow high white gloves was, indeed Veronica. Jughead wondered what kind of products she used to keep her hair tightly curled and so shiny at the same time. It hung in dark curtains over her right shoulder. A small, black hat with a tiny veil covered her eyes. She could have stepped right off of the silver screen.

Neither of them expected her to lay a flat hand on the chest of a tall, equally striking dark-haired man and reach up on her tip toes for a soft kiss. Archie’s heartbreak was nearly audible, but all Jughead could think about was how good the pair would look in a black and white filter.

“Sorry, man.” He clapped Archie on the shoulder and offered up a pickle.

“What are we staring at?” Betty’s voice whispered into his ear. Of course, the moment she said it, the answer became her. The white beaded flapper dress she was wearing went sheer over her cleavage drawing his eyes inappropriately down. It ended in swaying curtains just above her knees.

“It’s, uh-” And then he just pointed and shoved in more food.

“Oohh. Poor Arch.” Betty laid her head on Archie’s shoulder comfortingly. “Want me to get you some alcohol?”

“No. I mean, yeah, I want a beer, but it’s stupid of me. I should have known. I just feel so dumb. How about you? Are you feeling better? You know that we’re still cool, right?”

“Of course we’re still cool, but I’d feel better with a drink. Anybody else want one? Juggie?”

She laid a hand on his arm when she asked. Hypersensitive goosebumps chased the warmth.

Toni, dressed in a curve hugging pinstripe suit, interceded. “Jug doesn’t drink.”

“No, but he can speak for himself and would love a milkshake on someone else’s dime.”

“Oh, that sounds amazing! Look at this menu! They have Baileys! I’ll get you the chocolate and me the strawberry, but don’t drink mine, I’m going to Irish it up. I deserve one drunken night this summer!”

“I call not designated!” Toni held a finger up to her nose.

Cheryl appeared in a swirl of red satin. “Have no fear, my darling T.T. I’ve got an Uber all planned for us, mi amore. The losers can ride with Jughead. What do you call a chauffeur of losers? Like what is the station of someone so low they are the assistant to a loser?”

“Play nice, love. He’s my best friend.”

“As previously established, I can also still hear you, Cheryl.”

Cheryl was in her signature red. It positively shone in the pink lights of the club. “Bored now. How about some dancing? Betty, are you still planning on being a dull hetero tonight?”

He didn’t even know if Betty was aware that her arm was across his shoulders and she had a hand carding through his hair. “Sorry, still only attracted to men. I’ll wait here for the drinks then join you guys later.”

“Boo. Well, I guess we can’t all be perfect. Archie, come keep boys from touching us.”

The glittering of Betty’s dress was mesmerizing. “You look… you look amazing tonight.”

She took a long sip of her newly arrived drink while watching him from beneath thick black lashes. “You stole my line. You clean up exceptionally well, Jones.”

Betty snagged a couple of smokey shots off of a tray being carried nearby and downed them with barely a wince.

“Woah, easy. How about you have some of these fries to put something in your stomach? You’ve got to be a lightweight, I haven’t seen you drink once in the past eight weeks.”

As Betty munched on the offered food, she appraised him. “You’re a great man, do you know that? Why aren’t you taken? Where’s the hidden fiancée?”

That took him aback. “I guess I’m not the young fiancée type. I didn’t go to college full time like most kids. I only took two courses, both on meteorology. I met a girl there. In my head, I call her my first love, but I’m not sure I was really in love with her so much as the idea of her. Kind, smart, funny, she was all of those things everyone says they want in a partner. I just don’t think I was what she wanted. We met in the fall, were near inseparable in the winter, then in the spring I asked where we should meet up after the chase season. You should have seen her face. She was so confused. She always knew we were a fling. She just never told me.”

“Don’t hate me, but I’ve been that girl. I once dated the sweetest boy on Earth, but I knew he wasn’t the one. He never understood my need to follow a lead into the darkest cranny. Hal actually managed to break up my last relationship before he was even unmasked. He sent me one of those infamous Black Hood letters. I became obsessed.”

She paused to wipe away a tear that had not yet fallen. “I wanted to save someone. Anyone. I really thought that if I could just get one step ahead I could catch him. Then it started to sit there, in the back of my head. The green eyes, how well he seemed to know me. But it couldn’t be him. Not the man who taught me to fix cars and ride bikes. Then one day he invited me over, and there was a girl. Tied up, struggling, blue fingertips from the ropes. I don’t even remember knocking him out. I remember picking up the bat before and running with the girl after, but that middle part is a blank. I don’t talk about it much.”

Her eyes were wide, not seeing the people moving around the table just in front of them. When Veronica sauntered up to their table, Betty’s eyes refocused, slipping forth a few tears. She turned to discreetly wipe them away.

“Jughead! I didn’t know you guys were here! I would have given you guys the V.I.P. Bottle treatment. Is Archikins here, too? Oh my God! Betty! What’s wrong?” Veronica wrapped her arms around Betty, forcing her head down to Veronica’s bosom.

Betty allowed herself to be held for a moment before straightening up. “I am the daughter of infamous serial killer Hal Cooper, and I don’t want to think about it anymore. That is what’s wrong.”   

Veronica gave a knowing shake of her head. “Honey, I am the daughter of the infamous murderer and mob boss Hiram Lodge and if you don’t want to think anymore, I can make that happen.”

“Are you really?”

“Hand to God, Daddy’s the worst.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better!” Betty sagged into another hug.

Veronica giggled into her hair. “That’s the first time anyone has ever said that about Daddy.”

Cheryl came upon the hug fest. “What’s this all about?”

“Veronica’s dad is a convicted murderer, too!” Betty announced with tipsy glee.

“Homicidal Dad Party!” Veronica yelled. The girls wooed. Jughead resigned himself to a long night of waiting to be the loser chauffeur. 

Seeing Betty’s carefree smile as she danced with girls was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Veggie or Varchie? It's poll time! I'm torn, so I need some feedback.


	6. Different on the Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long! Between my beta and I life got in the way, but it has all been written and edited, so from here on out this will be updated at least weekly!

“I have never been so hungover in my life.”

 

Taking in the image of Betty’s sickly pale pallor, huge sunglasses, and water bottle the size of her head as she sat in the booth beside him, it was easy to believe. Archie’s echoing groan told the same tale.

 

The three of them were sitting in a greasy spoon somewhere in the Ozarks. The long, winding roads around the mountainous terrain were making his traveling companions feel worse for the wear. They decided that diner food was the correct cure for what ailed them.

 

They still had the S.I.V. to themselves. The storm front had shifted north into the plains of Missouri. All of the vehicles were going to convene on the area at their own pace, save for the girls who had the luxury of staying behind for a day. The hours they’d spent driving to Little Rock at least put them in a better position than the scout truck so they had time for such a stop.

 

“Pedialyte,” Archie mumbled with his face pressed against the table.

 

“If it works, I’ll try anything.” Betty pulled her legs up, wrapped her arms around them and then let herself fall into Jug’s side. Because Archie wasn’t looking, he briefly rested his cheek on the top of her head.

 

“I can drop you two off somewhere and come back.”

 

“No! Hell no.” Betty popped up with resolve, but swayed a little in her seat. “The minute F.P. catches up with us he’s going to take the S.I.V. over again. We need to intercept before that happens.”

 

Archie lifted his head and slammed his fist down. “Yeah! Shit. Gotta puke.”

 

He ran past the waitress coming toward them. She was a grisled looking old woman in a pale blue uniform who was unfazed by the redhead dashing past her. “What’ll y’all have?”

 

Betty snatched the menu right out of Jughead’s hand before he could order and gave them over. “Every diner has a hangover special. We need three.”

 

“Hey!” he protested as the waitress left. “I may have wanted something else.”

 

“Nope,” Betty argued as she wrapped almost her entire body around his left arm. “It’ll be big, fatty, and tasty. You’ll love it.”

 

The snuggling was not helping him keep his urge to kiss her in check. She was clearly hurting from the alcohol and a rough few days, now was not the time to make a move. The clanking din of dishes and poured coffee wasn’t exactly ideal for making a romantic overture either. But the soft warmth of her pressed into him felt intimate even amongst the bustling morning crowd trying to fuel up before work. To stave off the impulse, he laid just the barest kiss against her hair.

 

Her head quirked to the side like a dog catching a whistle. As she leaned to peer around the edge of the worn red leather booth he followed.

 

“Fangs? Sweet Pea?” she asked.

 

They looked like they weren’t feeling like morning people either. 

 

“Kill me,” Fangs pleaded as he scrunched into the booth next to Betty. She had to detangle herself from Jughead to make room.

 

“You know the other side is empty!” Jughead protested as he was squished.

 

“Not for long,” Sweet Pea said as he scooted himself all the way back to lean against the wall. From behind his hulking form Ethel appeared. Her bright smile combined with her cheery yellow flowered dress and red headband were in direct contrast to the boys’ black outfits and matching demeanors. 

 

“Jughead! How nice to see you! When I saw the S.I.V. in the parking lot I knew we had to stop here. You’re looking well this morning. Gee, Betty, are you alright? You don’t look like you feel very well.”

 

Betty’s fakest smile appeared. “Thanks for your concern, Ethel. I’m not at my best yet because my friends took me out last night to cheer me up after a bad day. But don’t you worry, I’ll be fine.”

 

“Hey M.B., how’s it feel to be famous?” Fangs asked Betty with a tired smile.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“That picture of you and the tornado went viral. Mechanic Betty is trending.” He gave over his phone.

 

Somewhere in the past few days, Betty had become a meme. Overlaid atop the image of Betty calling forth mother nature’s most vicious winds were the words ‘Throwing away the last fuck I had to give like…’

 

Betty sighed. “I can’t deal with this until I’ve had food”

 

Archie came back right as the waitress arrived surprisingly looking much better.

 

“Alright kids, here’s the Soak It Up Special. Eat the banana, drink the tomato juice, five minutes later hit the salmon eggs benedict,” the waitress said pointing at each dish as she named it. “Guaranteed to cure what ails ‘ya.”

 

After the other guys ordered more of the same, the table fell into relative silence as they ate. The most noise was probably coming from Jughead who couldn’t help but make grunts of appreciation. He wasn’t about to drink tomato juice, but the meal was beyond all expectations.

 

There were also the occasional sounds of incredulity as Betty flipped through a photoshop battle of the image. Jughead could only hope his watermark was showing up. Exposure couldn’t pay bills, but future commissions might.

 

“Damn. I actually feel way better.” Archie sounded amazed.

 

Smugly, Betty offered an, “I told you so. Always let the waitress choose the hangover food. I’m going to the restroom and then we should head out. Sorry DOW, I’m not willing to wait for you.” She handed Fangs his phone back as she scooted past him.

 

Once Betty was clear, Ethel leaned in. “Jughead, the S.I.V. has four seats, right?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Technically, anyway. The fourth seat is the camera mount set up in the back.”

 

She started to wring her hands in her lap. “Do you think I could ride with you guys today? I’d love to get a different perspective on the storms.”

 

“What she means,” Fangs offered, “is that I cooked drunk Mac ‘n’ Cheese last night and Sweet Pea is lactose intolerant. The truck smells like death.”

 

“Oh please! Like I’m the smelly one? Your mustard gas farts are way worse.”

 

Ethel’s eyes pleaded her case, but he just couldn’t do it. “I’m really sorry, but even with the five point harness, the set up isn’t legal in some states and we just can’t afford the ticket.”

 

Archie, never one to dash anyone’s hopes added, “Maybe tomorrow when we get the scout truck back? It’s a shame you can’t come with us today. I feel a storm coming in. Can you feel it?”

 

Jughead could. They were still hours away from the supercell, but the air had a wet thickness to it that spoke of a day of intense weather. He was itching to get on the road to stay ahead of the winds. There was no time to try and talk about vehicle arrangements. 

 

Jughead looked up to see Betty standing at the edge of the booth. “Have we paid yet? We need to get going. There’s just something in the air that tells me it’s time to move out.”

 

They dropped twenties on the table and made their apologies as they quickly headed to the car. The thirty minutes they’d spent on breakfast was well worth it. The S.I.V. was pulsing with energy as they peeled out of the parking lot. 

 

There were no words for the visceral knowledge that there were tornadoes brewing in the air. Jughead pulled up radar on the mounted laptop as they roared over the roads. The winds were carrying the storm at nearly fifty miles an hour. If they were going to get ahead of the cell and into a position to cross a twister’s path, they needed to be faster. A true chase was on.

 

Just outside the diner, they could see the soaring sides of the anvil cloud extending high into the heavens. Archie’s foot never left the gas in their quest to head off the storm. The other teams called in as they joined the hunt. The meteorology team relied entirely on the DOW information so the two teams met up, allowing Ethel to change vehicles for the day, but the delay from several pit stops put them a half hour behind the S.I.V. in the chase. Fred lamented over the radio that the scout truck was entirely out of position.

 

“We’re the only ones who are going to make it!” Betty said as she bounced in her seat.

 

“We will if you two would quit pulling over for pit stops!” Jughead yelled as Archie turned off the highway yet again. 

 

“I’m sorry! Water helps hangovers! It’s been proven.” Archie barely put the vehicle in park before he was sprinting to the rest stop.

 

“Oh thank God!” Betty also took off.

 

“Amateurs!” 

 

Archie returned first with a satisfied sigh. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as they waited for Betty’s return. “Sooooo, that Ethel’s a nice girl.”

 

“That sounded loaded.”

 

“She likes you, dude. It’s so obvious, and she’s cool. She’s handled being on the road like a trooper. The guys say she almost never complains.”

 

All he could do was sigh at his friend. “I’ve spent almost no time with her. She’s nice, she’s pretty, but I don’t really know her.”

 

“I hear dating is a great way to get to know someone.”

 

“I don’t want to date her, okay? Can we just drop this, please?”

 

Archie tried to subtly look at Jughead out of the corner of his eye. “Sure. But is there a reason why? Is there someone else?”

 

Jughead was hyper-aware of Betty exiting the rest area and sprinting their way. “Drop it. Now. I mean it.” 

 

Betty slammed her way into the S.I.V. “Go, go go!”

 

Luckily, the few minutes they spent off the road didn’t put them too far behind. The sauna wet air from the Gulf of Mexico was at their backs, fueling the storm and pushing them forward. After nearly three hours of burning rubber down the Missouri roads, the storm was hitting a cold front of air winding down from Canada. 

 

Half an hour out from where the radar was showing dark red signs of rotation, the downpour started. The three of them grew quiet as the visibility worsened. This wasn’t the kind of storm the camera could capture. If a tornado was coming down, it was going to be rain wrapped right up until the edge of the violent winds.

 

It was the perfect kind of storm for data. If they could get the S.I.V. into position, the equipment on the roof could record groundbreaking information.

 

“I can’t see shit, Jughead. I need the radar to be my eyes.”

 

“Start taking it easy. It looks like it’s right on top of us.”

 

“My ears just popped,” Betty warned.

 

They punched through the last sheet of rain into an eerie drizzle. The typical sickly green sky of a wall cloud cast a weird yellow glow across the road.

 

“Where is it?” Betty needn’t have asked. They were all scouring the cloud for the funnel they knew had to be close by.

 

“WEST! WEST!” Archie yelled as he punched down on the gas again. “Jug, can we get into it?”

 

The funnel was still lowering. It was a white rope of cloud swirling dangerously close to the ground. As they watched, debris began to swirl on the ground below the side-winder. Jughead scrambled to open a local map of the area. 

“Run us north, in two miles there’s a small road that cuts west. If we can get there and it stays on course, we can get right in the middle of it.”

 

“How do we know the S.I.V. can withstand it?” Despite her question, Betty sounded nothing but ecstatic.

 

“The fact that it’s white is a great sign. The more debris a tornado sucks up, the darker it gets. We also look at the width. This is only a few hundred feet wide right now. I’d guess EF1, maybe 2. Perfect for us. I’m moving to the camera.”

 

Archie swerved onto gravel just as he was passing Betty, throwing him into her lap. To his shocked delight, she snuck a quick kiss. They’d never talked about their first kiss or repeated it in the days since it happened. It was intensely gratifying to know he hadn’t dreamed the whole thing. Nearly as gratifying as it was frustrating that he still had no time.

 

He held tight as Archie squealed to a stop and yelled that he was lowering the plates. As Jughead readied his camera, the steel plates surrounding the truck lowered entirely to the ground, shielding the bottom from the tornado’s lifting winds. Heavy spikes drove into the ground nearly forty cm to cement them down.

 

The funnel had stayed true to course. It was coming right at them.

 

The faint howling of the wind outside their door increased to a roar and then reached a bellowing scream as if a train was rushing upon the truck. The drizzling rain was no longer falling down across the windows. The drops were now moving completely sideways. Some even began to move back up toward the sky as the outer winds engulfed the S.I.V. The entire approach was caught on film.

 

As Jughead’s world narrowed to inside the lens, he missed the unbuckling of Betty’s seatbelt and her steady crawl into the domed out truck bed. He was oblivious to her movements until he went to switch from video to photography and found her pressing one hand to the glass in awe of the winds whipping across the bullet proof panes. Of course, he had to snap a few frames of that expression.

 

For one wild moment he imagined her flinging open the door to join the wind. It would engulf her, but he saw it not ripping her away, but allowing her to play in its streams as a nymph. 

 

“Betty, sit down and buckle the hell up,” he implored as the S.I.V. suddenly started to shudder violently. Debris he couldn’t recognize was enveloping their entire field of vision. There was no telling how far into the funnel they were or how long it would be until they came out the other end. The shudders turned into a violent rocking. They all reached out to brace against the walls as if they could steady the truck.

 

And just like that, they were out of the worst of it. The sound of a speeding freight train was no more, replaced with just the gentle rush of a normal storm. The rains returned to the soft patterns that lead to a good night’s sleep.

 

“Holy Shit!” Archie said as he unbuckled. The race to be the first out of the door was on. 

 

Betty beat them both by a mile.

 

“We were in that! We were  _ inside _ of that tornado  _ right there _ !” Betty exclaimed between fits of adrenaline fueled giggles. “Feel me, I’m shaking.”

 

Her arms wrapped around him and he could feel her elated shaking mirrored to his own. She threw her entire being into the hug. The anxiety of the chase and the actual intercept had cascaded into glee now that they were all safe. He’d never felt so high in his life. His blood sang with the triumph.

 

“Guys, we did it! ” Archie tackled them into a group hug. They stood together laughing and squeezing as the tornado continued to rip across the open fields, dissipating before it hit the big red farmhouse on the hill. The S.I.V.’s doors opened upward offering perfect protection from what was left of the thunderstorm. They were all too wired to do anything but sit there and recap the encounter for long minutes until the radio crackled to life.

 

Archie manned the switch. “Dad, you are going to be so damn jealous.”

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Back at the motel, they were greeted as heroes returning from war. Archie gave a dramatic reenactment while Jughead showed off his perfect film to whoever wanted to see it. Betty was already off looking at the radar, anticipating the morning’s chase.

 

Archie ran shaky hands through his hair. “I am so wired. There is no way I’m going to be sleeping. Hey, Dad, F.P., want to have a jam session tonight?”

 

“Hell yeah.” F.P. clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You deserve some fun. The boy and I have a suite tonight. You bring the instruments, I’ll get us some grub.”

 

“Meanwhile I am going to crash out,” Jughead protested. “Where am I supposed to go?”

 

Fred handed over his room key. “Here, you can take our room. It was the last available one so it’s a single anyway.”

 

“Thanks, but what do you mean it was the last available one? This is a crap motel in the middle of nowhere with nothing but empty rooms. How are they sold out?”

 

His question was answered when a handful of Ghoulies walked in with their extreme weather tourists. Jughead turned on his heel and headed right to the room. He was in no mood to deal with that fistful of assholes. Not when there was a gorgeous data set from the car’s rooftop sensors to look at.

 

As he passed Betty, they locked gazes. There was so much he wanted to say but couldn’t in the middle of the crowded lounge. Instead, he just let his hand graze hers as he stayed on course.

 

The room was as bland as any other. The comforter held the same worn pattern he could swear he’d seen a thousand times. The peeling wallpaper alone should have been enough to lull him to sleep, but it was elusive. He was hungry and his heart still pumped with the rush of the catch. It was still elevated when the soft knock sounded on his door half an hour later.

 

Betty was freshly showered and wearing clean sweats on the other side of his door. The scent of roses and laundry detergent followed in her wake as she invited herself in.

 

“God that was amazing. I’ve never felt like that before. The wind was so fast, so much faster than I thought it could be. And the sound! It was soul shaking, it changed me! I was trying to talk to Ethel about what we saw today and she kept saying we should just be thankful we were safe but I feel more than that! One of the tourists was talking about his wife staying home with their children and I felt such pity for her. Once you’ve been in one like that, oh Juggie, how am I ever supposed to live life without this again?”

 

She kept pacing and running her hands up into her hair as she spoke. When she finished, it was a wild mane haloing around her face.

 

“You can’t. There is no living without this. Not for me,” he said breathlessly.

 

“After all that shit with my dad, I went numb. I completely shut down. I had no idea how much of me went missing until today. I was alive again for the first time in years, maybe in my entire life. I don’t know how I’ll ever sleep again.”

 

Jughead boldly stepped toward her. Close enough to be inside her personal bubble. Her hands ran restlessly up his arms. “You have to wear it off. Put all of it someplace.” 

 

“Dammit, Jughead, just kiss me already.”


	7. One Great Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. All smut, nothing but smut. If you don't like smut you can skip this entire chapter and not lose any plot whatsoever.

His intent was to move in slowly. It was to give her soft kisses that showed her how much he cherished her and how he planned on seeing to her every need that night. The type of slow kisses that built yearning up to a crescendo.

 

What he actually did was crash his hungry mouth into hers with all the panicked urgency the day had left them with. She responded with bruising, biting kisses of her own. His bottom lip was sucked between hers then given a harsh little nip at the end. A groan echoed off the walls coming back to shame him with how desperate he sounded. She abruptly pulled back to tug his shirt up and over his head. With satisfaction, he realized he could do the same to her. As she was still running her gaze over his abs, he lifted the end of her sweatshirt up, revealing only her soft, heavy breasts underneath. Once it was removed, he licked his way down her throat to kiss between them.

 

“No bra? That’s brazen, Ms. Cooper. What if I wasn’t in here alone?” Having spent too much time away from her to talk any more, he drove right back in to press soft kisses against her flesh before she could answer.

 

“God that feels so good. I saw you walk down here and- ah -and I waited to make sure no one else followed. But wait-”

 

She left his arms to walk to the door, a completely unacceptable turn of events. He didn’t think she’d walk out topless, but his brain wasn’t working at full capacity. When he realized she was just trying to chain the door to make sure the outside world was locked away, he decided it was an unnecessary use of time.

 

He enveloped her from behind. His tongue and teeth worried at her neck as his hands came up to work her breasts. The air was filled with her soft noises of approval and the clanking of the chain as she still tried to fit it into the slot. Jughead became determined to see her too distracted to accomplish the task. One of his hands that had been rolling a nipple descended in a deliberate path down her stomach and barely dipped into her pants. When that was met with only encouraging moans, he lowered it beneath the elastic of her panties. Betty’s breaths grew ragged. Her left hand dropped to clutch him tighter against her back.

 

Slowly he went farther and farther, slipping through coarse hair, over her mons, and down into her wetness. They both groaned as he pushed in one finger, then two. Once they were thoroughly coated, he brought them back up to her clit. He put one finger on either side of her nerve endings and began to rub soft but urgent circles around it. 

 

With the chain now completely forgotten, Betty pushed her right hand against the door to leverage herself back against Jughead. He couldn’t help but rock in time with her hips rotating back against him then forward against his fingers. He had to move his mouth away from her neck or risk leaving dark bruises from the suction. He rested his forehead against the back of her neck as they continued their obscene writhing. His hand moved faster and faster until they reached a fever pitch and her moans were becoming altogether too loud for the thin walls of the motel to contain. When her back arched and she started convulsing with her orgasm, he wrapped a strong arm across her entire middle to keep her upright until she went still, sagging back against him.

 

To his complete and utter annoyance, she then leaned forward to put the chain in its place. The wicked grin she tossed his way told him she’d known his plan the entire time.

 

With red lips wet from bites and kisses, she asked him, “Now, where were we?” As if he hadn’t just made her cum pressed to the door.

 

“I am so fucking attracted to you.”

 

He meant to call her beautiful or gorgeous. It didn’t matter, she still leaned in to press more urgent kisses against his mouth. 

 

“You’re not hiding it very well.”  Through the material of his plaid flannel pants she stroked his erection.

 

“Fuck, Betty. You’re half naked. I can barely think.”

 

She pushed her pants to the floor. Wetness followed down her thigh. “Now I’m completely naked.”

 

She invaded his space. Pushed flush against him until her breasts were pressed hard on his abdomen and his still clothed cock was trapped between her thighs. She wound her arms around his neck. “Did you know that I’m multi-orgasmic? Some girls don’t like to be touched after they come. I consider the first one a warm up. How about you?”

 

She stepped back leaving a flood of cold air between them and sat on the edge of the bed. Her wide spread legs were a clear invitation for him to get to his knees. There was some witty comment he could have made about not knowing her body that well yet, but what little ability he had left to think was completely cancelled out by the sight of her glistening pink folds.

 

He dove at the trail of wetness on her thigh, licking it clean before ascending to her center. There was at least enough presence of mind to tease her. Soft kitten licks were given to her outer lips. A long, wet tonguing of her slit with a purposeful evasion of her clit until she grabbed him by the hair and pulled forward with a whine. It was the single most erotic moment of his life. He began lapping at it quickly, gathering what he could and pressing down on his cock to relieve some of the pressure. As she gyrated forward against him, he couldn’t help but moan into her. She answered back with a long moan of her own. Strong thighs clamped around his head. Her muscles spasmed and vibrated around him and even more wetness spilled forth.

 

“Oh fuck, Jughead!” 

 

He panted against her leg. She pulled him to his feet, crushed her lips to his, and tugged his pants to the floor. She basically threw him onto the bed and began crawling up his body.

 

He stammered, “Did you know that a study found the more beautiful a woman was, the shorter the amount of time men lasted during sex?”

 

Her hips swayed as she giggled and continued her pursuit. “Is that so?”

 

“Yep. Just something to keep in mind.” There was no way he was going to last. She was already blowing his fucking mind and even the idea that she was going to be wrapped around his penis had him on edge.

 

“Well if you don’t have a condom, it’s a moot point anyway.”

 

“Drawer.” Thank every God in every heaven that his father insisted there were condoms everywhere.

 

She tore it open delicately. “I have the implant, but safety first.”

 

The way she rolled it down him was not helping the situation. At all. When she began her slow descent onto his cock, with her hips finally straddling his, he thought he might pass out. But then she had taken him to the hilt and went completely still. She just sat there with a smirk on her face.

 

“Betty, what the fuck are you doing, you’re killing me.”

 

“No, I’m just teasing you. I decided I want a third orgasm, and since you said you’re already close, I figured I should get started without you.”

 

In an act of unbelievable cruelty, Betty reached between her legs and began to stroke herself. He tried to thrust up, but she held him tight, allowing him no movement beyond the fluttering of her internal muscles. Her wide, green eyes stayed locked with his as she worked herself. If he thought he’d been turned on before, it had nothing on this. Her gorgeous breasts swayed above him as she began moaning and then rocking on him. His eyes strayed to her hand as it began to move faster. Harder.

 

“Oh God, Betty, please let me fuck you!” He’d been hard forever, the small movements driving him insane since the beginning of time.

 

“Yes, oh please Juggie! Fuck me!”

 

The feeling of her riding him at a gallop was enough to roll his eyes back in his head. With every thrust up, she slammed back down onto him with the most delicious friction against his erection. The headboard smacked against the wall as she fucked him into the mattress still frantically seeking her next climax. 

 

Despite her head start, he couldn’t hold on. With a tortured groan, all of the built up tension poured out of him. He thrust and moaned his way through every spurt of his cock slamming into her with every ounce of strength he had.

 

“YES! Oh GOD YES!” He could feel her orgasm start to contract against his already softening erection. It was too much and oh God just right at the same time. Absolute torturous heaven.

 

By the time she was finished and trying to catch her breath, he was way past the point of being hypersensitive, but nowhere near the point of asking her to move. With one last gentle kiss, she removed herself, leaving him to dispose of the condom while she was in the bathroom. He pulled his boxers back on and got beneath the covers, unsure of what else to do with his nakedness post-coitus. 

 

Backlit in the doorway to the bathroom, Betty came out looking like a goddess. The way she carried her bare skin with ease and a seductive glint had him sighing. She confidently got under the covers still naked. One of her legs curled up over his body as she pressed into his side. He loved the warmth radiating off of her all over him.

 

“Is it cliche of me to say that was amazing?” he asked.

 

“Is it cliche of me to say it’s super gross that we just had sex on a motel comforter?”

 

The ugly patterned polyester monstrosity covering the bed did appear to have several stains and what may have been cigarette burn holes. “Nasty. Way to ruin the afterglow, Cooper.”

 

She giggled into his chest. “If it makes you feel better, I didn’t think about it during because I was having amazing sex-”

 

He blushed with pride.

 

“-but I am thinking about it now. That’s the one thing I hate about sleeping in a different bed every night. How do I know the sheets are clean?”   

 

“That’s the only thing you hate about it?” He inched her off of him so he could lay side-by-side with her. Conversations needed eye contact, he wanted to see her expressions.

 

“Yeah. There are some annoying things, like trying to figure out how to get the showers to the right temperature or how dirty clothes always seem to take up more space in my suitcase than clean ones, but the only thing I actually hate are the sheets.”

 

“Huh.” He traced along the exposed skin of her arm with his thumb. “I have to say, I didn’t peg you for the roadie type. I thought you’d pack up and go after three days.”

 

“Honestly? Me too. But then I realized I was more comfortable in the S.I.V. than I had been anywhere else on Earth in months. Remember when you said you got looks when your dad was in jail? Imagine that but on a national scale. People were coming to our house, to the front door. Even before Dad got caught, Mom was leaving him and you could feel the tension every day. I couldn’t afford to stay in the dorms over the summers so for two months a year I’d go back to that awful house and then to a new dorm with a new roommate in the fall. People always say ‘home is where the heart is’. I thought they meant home is the room where you let your guard down. It never occured to me it would be in some vehicle that changed location every day.”

 

“Okay, I am really really happy you love traveling with us, but there has to be something more than just clean sheets you miss.”

 

“Hmmm…” She squinted her eyes comically as she thought. “Baking. I do miss having an oven. And I’m excellent at it. My muffins are legendary.”

 

His stomach didn’t just growl at the idea of food, it rumbled so entirely he was convinced the bed shook. They erupted in hysterics.

 

“In all of the excitement I forgot to eat today,” he said bashfully.

 

“Me too. I’m starving. Do you still have the keys to the S.I.V.?” Betty was leaving the heat of the covers despite his many protests.

 

“Yes. Why?”

 

“One last trip before we hand it back. I want a rootbeer float, and I’ve never known you to turn down a burger and fries. My treat?”

 

He had his jeans halfway up the moment she’d said burger. “Offering me free food after you have sex with me? That’s a terrible idea. It’s like feeding a stray dog and then petting it. Now you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

  
  
  
  



	8. Black Winds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about to get real y'all!

It was truly amazing what could happen in one day. During the span of one seemingly normal stretch of twenty four hours, a mind boggling number of things could happen. Most days have a pattern to them. Other days cover such a vast expanse of events that one goes to bed thinking, ‘Did all of that happen today?’ He really should have known it was going to be one of  _ those _ days the moment he got out of bed.

 

Those first few moments before he left the bed were perfect bliss. He’d fallen asleep with a full stomach after Betty had given him an earth shattering blow job in the S.I.V. She woke him with kisses to his chest to let him know she was wandering off to her own room to get ready for the day. He indulged in a few minutes of basking in the warmth of unfamiliar crisp sheets, trailing lines over the road of memories from the night before. Retracing every moment.

 

Leaving the bed was his greatest mistake. He’d forgotten that the motel was overcrowded with two storm chasing crews and all of the tourists the Ghoulies brought. His quick morning shower might as well have been a storm’s rain shield for all the warmth left in the pipes. There was something else he was forgetting, he just couldn’t put his finger on what.

 

At the motel’s breakfast buffet, with a series of protein bars and cereal, he thought he might sit next to Betty and brighten the day back up. Maybe indulge in some eye contact flirting. Instead he found her, as usual, happily chatting with the team as they planned the day. He sat alone at a table where his cereal would be safe from errant elbows, his mind awash with insecure questions. Were they dating? Would it be rude of him to tell Archie he’d had exquisite sex with Betty all night? Should he ask Betty’s permission? What would happen if he just boldly walked up and took her hand in his?  

 

As he pondered questions and the roiling mass of feelings in his stomach, the Ghoulies started making trouble. Once again they were trying to skip out on a tab. As he was trying to mitigate the fallout between the jerks and the managers, Archie was making good on his promise to invite Ethel on the day’s chase. It turned out no one thought to tell Betty until Ethel was happily lugging her suitcase out to the truck.

 

That was what his brain had been trying to remind him of all morning. Their trio was going to be a quartet for the day. 

 

He tried to peripherally watch Betty argue with Archie as he stood next to the counter tapping at his phone.

 

Malachai was leaning his back on the front desk, not even bothering to make eye contact with the manager he was trying to screw over. “Look, it doesn’t matter what you say. Nowhere on any piece of writing does it say that I am covering all seven rooms. When I said I was paying for me and my boys, that was three rooms. The other four are on you. You didn’t get a card from the guests at check in? Your problem. Not mine.”

 

Jughead turned his phone so it was facing the clerk and Malachai. “Then why does it say right here on your website that you cover accommodations? This is your face, isn’t it?”

 

Malachai sneered at him, but at least he told the clerk he’d changed his mind out of the goodness of his heart. Short though the exchange may have been, it cost him what little time he might have had to pull Betty aside before the scout had to head out.

Having a new person in the truck changed the dynamics entirely. Betty, Archie, and Jughead had weeks to grow comfortable with each other. They were peas in a pod, even with Archie’s complaints about their listening choices. There was a rhythm to their conversation that was different with Ethel along. He missed it the instant he realized it wasn’t there anymore.

 

Ethel also counted as a music vote, which meant the Beach Boys were blasting as they finally broke free of the trees and hit fields. Jughead didn’t mind the music that much. He could get over the change in atmosphere. He could even possibly ignore how tense Betty had been all day. What he couldn’t ignore were the constant questions. Ethel had asked nearly as many questions in the four hours following breakfast as Betty had those first two weeks. The difference was that she was specifically asking only him.

 

“Jughead, what’s your favorite feature of a storm?”

 

“Jughead, what tornado was your favorite?”

 

“Jughead, how long have you known you wanted to chase?”

 

“Jughead, what was your first experience with extreme weather?”

 

During a quick pit stop when Ethel got out to use the bathroom Archie wiggled his eyebrows salaciously at Jughead. “Jughead and Ethel sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! Dude, she likes you SO much!”

 

“No she doesn’t,” he blatantly lied.

 

Betty grabbed the back of his seat and swung her head between them just to give Jughead an incredulous look. He wanted to shout that it didn’t matter. He remembered caterpillar kisses and sleeping under the stars together. The memories of chasing the wind with her were etched onto him, couldn’t she tell?

 

“Uh, right. I’m just saying dude, you have to either get with her or let her down really soon. But why not give it a shot? How long has it been since you kissed someone? Like two years?”

 

Archie was looking at him, all eyebrows and innocent fluttering lashes. Archie’s eyes darted to Betty in the span of a blink, yet it seemed blatant to Jughead. Her body was turned to him completely, there was no way she caught it. There was more thunder in her expression than any cloud he’d ever seen.

Her eyes narrowed at him. “Yeah, Jug, how long has it been?”

 

All he could think to do was shake his head. Did she want him to tell Archie? Was he supposed to have told him sooner? Was she irate that he didn’t divulge details, or warning him against saying anything more? He was trying to read between the lines in the crinkled folds of her expression but coming up blank. 

 

The sound of the door handle broke the moment, but not the tension. Betty shifted back in her seat and before he could say anything else, they were headed down the road again. Locked together for weeks and yet no time to ever really talk to each other. He didn’t even have her number to text, though he enviously realized she was feverishly texting someone.

 

Mercifully, Archie asked, “Betty, who have you been talking to back there?”

 

“Veronica.”

 

“WHAT?! You have her number and I don’t?”

 

Betty smiled. “Of course I do. We’re practically best friends. One night can be more than enough to bond people together.”

 

“Oh, I agree!” Ethel chimed in. “I once went with friends to an overnight concert. It rained and was miserable, but it really bonded us as a group. Speaking of rain, hey Jughead, what kind of data from tornados do you think we need but haven’t been able to gather yet?”

 

A soft noise of scorn sounded from Betty’s corner.

 

“I’m sorry, Betty. Have we been boring you with all this weather talk? Sorry, us meteorology fanatics can be single minded sometimes.” It was impossible to tell if Ethel was being snarky or sincere.

 

Betty’s fake half quirked smile was back. “Not at all! Personally, I think there needs to be a better way to measure tornadoes for the EF scale and hopefully someday a way to scale them accurately earlier. Right now we only measure based on damage to structures, so if there aren’t any fortified structures in the way, violent tornadoes can be falsely reported as being lower on the scale.”

 

“That’s an unrealistic goal, don’t you think? Tornado velocity, wind shear, size. All of that can change in moments, how could you predict that? Rotational velocities while still a wall cloud?”

 

As the girls went back and forth about Betty’s assertion, Archie motioned for Jughead to lean in over the bench seat. “Dude, are they arguing through meteorology?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That’s weird, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Though not nearly as weird as the fact that it was seriously turning him on.

 

“Well. We’re here!” Archie announced. It was two in the afternoon and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. A quick double check of the radar made it clear Archie was right. They had arrived where they meant to be, just three or four hours ahead of the storm. Jumping out, Jughead could feel the stickiness of building storm air.

 

Before he could pull Betty aside, the D.T. 4 pulled by with an ominous thunk.

 

“Betty! Betty we need help!” Fangs shouted from the window.

 

Her mechanic game face was already on, her ponytail battened down. “Sounds like a belt.”

 

He would have offered to help. It was just that Fangs was already there. He knew the truck better anyway. Jughead slipped away in the scout. He needed the quiet of a bookstore to think.

 

Getting lost in the smell of old ink on weathered pages was the best cure for a troubled mind. Titles, familiar and new, tugged him toward less complicated adventures. Maybe a trashy romance novel would be just the thing he needed.

 

Every few minutes he’d glance up from his book to scan the store. It took him nearly an hour to figure out what he was waiting for. Betty. They’d been running into each other in small town stores all season. But there was nothing. No beautiful poised blonde woman trailing her finger along spines as she toured the aisles.

 

Jughead was an idiot. The night before had been amazing and he was blowing it by not acknowledging it. With renewed determination, he drove back to the Motel 6.

 

Determination was great, but it didn’t mean Betty wasn’t working and surrounded by people. Jughead was not a public declaration kind of guy. As she worked, the clouds climbed ever higher. White puffs grew to towers of ominous greys. News stations began to sound the alarms. A system was coming, and it was bad.

 

Archie caught Jughead staring up. He whistled low.“Jesus. It’ll be right here.”

 

Jughead nodded. “No need to scout. We should hook south behind it, leave the other cars to try and get probes in the path.”

 

F.P. and Fred sidled up next to the boys. F.P. spit on the ground and shook his head. “This could be a monster. If the D.O.W. doesn’t get running soon, the S.I.V. is sitting this out. I can’t risk going into something not knowing how big it is. You guys go. I’ll send Ben and Dilton out with the drones. Keep in contact.”

 

With nods and reassurances that they’d stay safe, Jughead took the navigator’s seat to Archie’s right. Ethel invited herself to sit behind Archie. Through the open driver’s window, he caught Betty yelling sullenly, “Are you seriously leaving without me?”

 

Jughead quickly called back, “If you want to abandon the D.T. 4 and come with us we’ve got the room.”

 

“Dammit, Asshole!” Sweet Pea tossed gravel that thunked against the window as they swerved to pick Betty up.

 

“We’ll have her back before dark!” Jughead flipped Sweet Pea off as they peeled out.

 

The atmosphere in the car was nearly as dense as the murky rising air. The motel was only a handful of miles away from where the rotation was starting up, but it was far enough away to put them on worn down back country roads. Smooth pavement gave way to rough potholes that jostled them against the doors.

“Jug, I’m going to need you to find me an east-west street to turn down. I don’t like being on the same road as the storm, even if we’re behind it.”

 

The rain preceding the clouds left the roads slick and muddy. A dangerous combination. They’d already punched through the halo of precipitation. The truck was in that weird space between rain and storm where there was only light drizzle and heady anticipation. Lightning raced across the bubbled bottom of the cloud even as it began to lower. White whisps began to curl.  

 

“In five seconds you’ll have one on your right.” He counted. The truck stayed on its course. “Archie! I told you to turn? What the hell?”

 

“Look down the road! The Ghoulies have their secondary caravan and half a dozen cars full of lookie loos blocking the entire thing! What do you want me to do?”

 

He was right, but Jughead was mad and anxious and he kind of wanted to keep yelling anyway. A few miles behind them, he could see the meteorology van trying to find a place to pull off as well. Doiley confirmed over the radio that they were getting ready to deploy drones.

 

The truck’s tires were fishtailing a little in the soft suction of the newly wet mud. The rolling mass of wet clouds was advancing too steadily. Being inside of the storm’s ring without the heavy protection of the S.I.V. was fraying everyone’s nerves. The road continued north with no sign of pavement veering off to safety. The clouds and the scout truck were advancing at nearly the same pace, and on the same path.

 

“Just drive for another mile or two and we’ll pull over on this road. It’ll be fine.”

 

Archie spun the wheel to pull off a U-turn, leaving the truck facing the way they’d come from. From the unstable churning cloud, a descending thin, ropey white cone came forth, twirling off to one side. It wasn’t anything spectacular, probably no more than an EF0, but there was something about it that made Jughead’s stomach fill with angry moths.

 

“I think I’m just going to stay in the truck!” Ethel called as they squelched down into the clay. 

 

The heavy rain shields and hail curtain didn’t cast the best backdrop. He shot a few usable photos, but nothing spectacular. Betty didn’t even offer to step into frame. For the first time in who knew how long, she didn’t want to be the focus of his lens. It stung.

 

They didn’t shoot for very long. Only a few precious minutes were spared, they knew the storm was moving away fast. From the same descended wall cloud, a second white tendril began to swirl its way down to the ground. No sooner had Archie said, “Look, multiple vertices!” than a third funnel began to make its way down from the heavens. The three twisters had soft, fuzzy edges. They danced destructive circles around each other in ways the team had never seen.

 

He knew it was time to get back in the truck. They had to move. The air felt wrong. Tight against his skin and hot. He took comfort in knowing tornados almost always swung northeast. On their road with the truck pointed south was probably the safest place to be. Blue flashes of light popped as the storm swallowed up power lines.

 

Like a hand of God coming down from the heavens, a fourth twister appeared.

 

“This is really, really not good. Aren’t multiple vertices common in EF5s?” Archie whispered in awe. Without another word, they collectively dashed the twenty feet to the truck. 

 

In the few seconds it took them to run and open doors, the world changed. A singular wind swept around all four tornadoes, pulling them in toward each other. What had been four points of individual chaos became one massive whirl of demolition. It had grown to almost a mile wide wedge in the space of a minute.

 

By the time they were buckled, the entire monstrosity had devoured enough earth to turn the beast pitch black. Suddenly, the entire mass pitched south. With only a few miles to spare, its outer winds were already rocking the truck. Flying sod hit the windows like swarms of flies. Then the roar came. The sound of a stadium worth of horrifying screams echoed off the plains, rushing past the windows. The freight train of noise made it nearly impossible to hear anything else.

 

“MOVE! ARCHIE! GO!” Jughead shouted uselessly. Archie just sat there, keys in the ignition, unturned.

 

“NO! It’s headed right for us! We can’t outrun it! We have to hunker down! We’ll hit the brakes and hope we only catch outside winds!”

 

“GET OUT OF MY WAY!” Betty screamed at Archie as she climbed over his seat. He was too stunned to do anything but comply.

 

Betty slammed the truck into gear and to the collective horror of the occupants, the truck lurched into reverse. They were headed directly toward the monstrous storm that was clocking nearly forty miles per hour. Jughead screamed, pleaded, begged her to stop. With a single minded focus, Betty kept one arm thrown over the back of her seat and her eyes on the road behind them.

 

The gusts of hundred mile-an-hour winds were trying to force the truck off the road. The tires spun and pitched on the soft earth. For a few threadbare seconds, Jughead thought about praying and what kind of deity might answer him. Then Betty slammed the brakes, spun the wheel, and perfectly executed a ninety degree turn onto an all but invisible one lane dirt road. Suddenly they were headed west. The winds weren’t rocking. The truck wasn’t being lifted off to one side anymore.  The air rushed into his lungs as he released a held gasp. For a few hundred feet, he breathed.

 

“DEBRIS!” Archie screamed.

 

The branch that slammed into them as it fell hundreds of feet appeared to come out of nowhere. With a painful screech, it hit the driver’s side hard enough to rock the truck up several feet onto two wheels before it came down hard again. In the confusion, Jughead thought he heard breaking glass, but as the post collision fog cleared he could see that the windshield had only cracked, not broken.

 

“Betty, what the fuck?” Archie moaned. Jughead held his head in his hands as he waited for the cotton ball feeling in his brain to pass.

 

“Staying would have killed us. We had to turn off the road. I knew the closest one was behind us. Oh my God, OH MY GOD! LOOK!”

 

He didn’t want to. Too much had happened already, but it was impossible not to follow the point of Betty’s finger. To his stomach wrenching horror, they had a perfect view of the demonic winds chasing down the meteorology van. It wobbled dangerously, teetering back and forth before the back end lifted and disappeared into the black winds. 

 

Going as fast as it was, the storm passed over the spot where the vehicle had been in mere seconds. 

 

“Ben? Dilton?” Jughead yelled out across the field as he left the truck knowing full well that even if they were okay, they couldn’t hear him. The storm was still roaring its fury. He stumbled as he jogged back to the main road. There was no sign that the van had ever been there. Archie, hot on his heels, called out for the men again. No answer came.

 

From behind them Betty called, “Guys? I think Ethel’s hurt.”

 

A quick glance back confirmed that Ethel was sliding out of her seat with her arm clutched close to her chest.

 

“Archie, can you take care of her? I’ll call for the S.I.V. and keep searching.”

 

It didn’t take long for him to figure out his phone wasn’t going to work. The massive wedge was still consuming everything in its wake. Whole farm houses were devoured in seconds, they stood no chance against such a force. By the time he made it back to the main road they’d been on, the tornado was miles away, though still easy to see. As adrenaline leached away, he became aware of his throbbing ankle. He scanned the horizon for any sign of the van. Nothing. He would need a vehicle to go searching for the meteorology team. 

 

The longer he walked, the more pronounced his limp became. Archie was bandaging Ethel’s wrist to her chest when he got back to the truck. Betty was watching the twister crest a hill and overtake a silo. Jughead slumped against the truck to pull his shoe off. His entire right ankle was a swollen, abused purple. He had no idea when or how it happened.

 

“Jug? I don’t think today’s a good day to shoot.”

 

An experimental roll shot veins of agony up his calf. “Of course it isn’t. Do I look like I’m holding the camera to you?” It was snappy and mean. She’d probably meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, but he was in pain and part of his team was most likely dead.

 

“I don’t have any of my dresses. And I don’t feel very good.”

 

“Betty? What are you talking about?” He used the door handle to haul himself up.

 

When he walked up, she was in profile with her right side turned to him. Now that she was head on he could make out the dark blood staining her hair on the other side.

 

“Fuck. Archie! I think Betty has a concussion!” Hobbling as best he could, he wasn’t nearly as fast as his miraculously unhurt friend. Archie got to her in time to hold her hair back as she heaved up her lunch onto the road.

 

“I don’t have a concussion. I’m just hungover from drinking with Veronica last night.” Betty’s pupils were decidedly not the same size.

 

Gently Jughead asked, “Hey, Betty? Can I borrow your phone for a minute?”

 

She handed it over readily with a dazed lack of focus. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her weight onto him. He stumbled until they hit the van. She contentedly snuggled further into him as he struggled not cry out in agony.

 

Her phone was a different carrier and with the first bit of luck he’d had all day, his call went through.

 

“Hey, Boy! We’re watching on T.V.! That’s a hell of a tornado out there. You guys okay?”

 

Swallowing back tears he said, “No. We need help.”


	9. Parting

Jughead was running. He was using every last ounce of strength his body had, and yet he wasn’t getting anywhere. He could feel his feet moving, and yet every stride he seemed to take felt like it only lengthened the distance between himself and Betty.

Why wasn’t she running? Couldn’t she see what was coming for her?

“Jughead, I don’t think it’s a good day to shoot.”

He was trying to shout, to tell her to turn away, but she was just standing there. The soil darkened edge of the twister was nearly to the hem of Betty’s black dress.

“Run! Betty! Just run!”

Jughead woke with a frantic gasp, not quite bolting upright. The bustle of the E.R. could be plainly heard through the thin plastic sheeting hanging down around his bed. It had to be some sort of H.I.P.P.A. violation to discuss patients that loudly when the nurses had to know the patients could hear every word. At least the soothing sound of Archie’s voice was also plain above the din.

“I’m telling you, Dad, she was amazing. Totally fearless. She just spun that wheel like it was nothing. I thought she was taking us into a ditch for sure. I don’t know what we would have done if Betty hadn’t been there. Probably would have ended up like the other two. Have they been found yet?”

Fred Andrews heaved a deep sigh. “Yeah, we found them. Their parents will be here in the afternoon to claim the bodies.”

“What time?” Jughead called through the curtain.

Fred pulled it back and managed to rummage up a smile. “Hey kid, did we wake you? They’ll be here early I think. Around one or so.”

“I was already awake. I’ll pick them up at the airport myself.”

Archie frowned at him. “Not with that ankle you won’t.”

He grumbled in frustration. He should have been released hours ago, only he wasn’t first in line to get an x-ray. Or seventh in line. When they’d finally gotten him wheeled down, they’d discovered a pretty nasty fracture Jughead still couldn’t remember actually getting. They’d promised to air cast him and let him go. That was ages ago. Long enough for him to fall asleep. And dream. Or nightmare.

“Any update on the girls?”

Archie sat on the edge of the bed and began listing off injuries. “Ethel’s wrist was just a sprain, so she left pretty quick. Betty’s head wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked. Mild concussion, a few stitches. I think they’re keeping her overnight. When she came in they thought it was pretty bad, but I think it was just shock from watching the guys… you know.”

“Disappear into a vortex of death?”

Fred cleared his throat. “Speaking of, the Ghoulies got hit. Two of their own injured, one tourist dead. Then it veered back north and hit a town. Early reports say at least a dozen casualties. Maybe more.”

“Please tell me Doiley at least got a probe out. He would have wanted that.”

F.P. slid into view. “I just double checked. No equipment turned on.”

“FUCK!”

A nurse in her forties who easily outweighed him put Jughead in his place with just the raising of one brow. He mumbled an apology. “You guys should head back and get some sleep. I’ll Uber home when they finally get the cast on.”

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?” F.P. rarely looked vulnerable. Letting his father stay would have been the kind thing to do.

“Nah, you have a lot to deal with right now. I’ve got this. But dad? Thanks. For coming so quick.” The S.I.V. made it to their field in less than five minutes even with the mud and the tornado.

“Nothing could have stopped me. I love you, boy.”

“Love you,too.”

F.P. gathered him into a tight hold. He blinked back tears. “Uh, what about the Girl Chasers?”

“They chose a completely different system. They got some great pictures, zero casualties,” Fred said with a sad smile.

“Good. Alright, now shoo. I’m fine. There’s a lot of work for you guys to do.”

He was left alone with the echoes of beeping machines and wet coughs. Ben and Dilton’s deaths were something he felt like he had to process alone. Of the team, they were the two people he knew the least. It wasn’t even their deaths that was really bothering him. It was that he was worried about not having meteorologists. About how they were going to replace the van and equipment. He wondered what that said about his humanity. There was no doubt in his mind he’d spend the next few days being overly kind to their distraught parents to hide his numbness.

He looked up at the white plastic clock on the wall. It was nearing 8:00 P.M. It had not yet been a full twenty four hours since Betty knocked on the door to his motel room, and yet lifetimes had passed. In one day, they’d gone from having at least a month of chasing left to being totally cut off. There were going to be no more chases for the Serpents that year. Their losses were too heavy.

“Found you,” Betty called softly from the doorway. Over her left eye was a white bandage covering stitches. All around the sides dark purple bruising leaked out. Flecks of dried blood still adorned the sides of her hair.

“Jesus, Betty. Should you be up? Where’s your room? Don’t you need a wheelchair?” He was ready to climb out of bed and get her one himself.

“Relax, relax,” she said while pushing him back down. “I’m fine, thanks for asking. No permanent damage done. I’m actually a lot better off than you are, I hear. I just got a bump to the head. Sweet Pea said your foot might have to be amputated, but since you haven’t even been admitted to your own room I assumed he was full of shit.” 

“I’ll kill him. It’s barely a fracture. I’m just waiting on a boot, but it’s been a busy night.”

Their injuries were far from the only ones. The small town E.R. was overrun with broken limbs and other injuries from falling debris and collapsed structures. The storm raged for forty minutes, even crossing a busy highway. It took cars with it as it plowed across the state.

It was easily the most destructive storm Jughead had ever seen, and he’d dragged people he cared about into it with him. He looked up into Betty’s soft blue eyes, and made a choice.

“With the van gone, the guys, I think the season is over.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Betty pulled a chair up alongside his bed and moved to take his hand. He skittered it away. Her eyes lingered on it.

“I think things are going to be different next season. We have to focus more on the science, on understanding these storms and how they move. I don’t think we’ll be taking as many pictures.”

“Of course. I’ve already applied to some classes to take over the winter. In New York. Though, there are some really good ones in Oklahoma. If I had a place to stay. Or a reason.” 

He avoided her eyes as they searched for his. “Betty, I don’t think the serpents are going to be retaining your services next year.”

“Jug, just-”

“I’m sorry, Betty. We just can’t take on civilians right now.”

She snaked her body around until he was forced to acknowledge her. “So that’s it, huh? One scare and you just want me to quit? To go away? Pretend like this entire relationship was nothing?”

He swallowed hard. “What relationship? We had one adrenaline fueled night together. I told you that it was just about working off the energy. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression but it was just a hook-up.”

“You son of a-” She closed her eyes and clenched her fists to stave off the last word. When she reopened them, they blazed with fire. “Jughead Jones, you have no idea what you are dealing with.”

Betty whirled out of the curtain with a flourish, stomping off with the same square shouldered determination he’d seen a hundred times before. He didn’t know where she was going, but she was going to get her way. 

As he watched her go, he spotted the clock again. Still less than twenty four hours, since she had been in his bed.

He let out a long breath that hitched on a sob. It was the right thing to do. She would see.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Close to dawn he was finally released to limp his way into the DOW truck in a puffy green air cast. Sweet Pea gave him a nod before they took off toward the hotel.

“Long fucking day, huh?”

Jughead let out a sardonic chuckle in response. “Long fucking season, Sweet Pea.”

“Yeah. And what the fuck are we going to do about the next one?”

Jughead leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “No clue. How are we going to find two new meteorologist chasers?”

“Well we have one. Ethel said she’d stick around as long as she doesn’t have to deploy. The real question is what are we going to do about our mechanic joining the other team?”

Jughead jolted upright in his seat. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“No one told you? Look.”

Sweet Pea pulled up instagram. There was a picture of Toni and Cheryl with their arms wrapped around Betty with the caption: ‘Guess who’s joining Girl Chasers next season?”

“Fuck me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh! I know I usually go for happy endings, but Jughead needs some work. 
> 
> Stay Tuned for Year Two: Girl Chasers!


End file.
